Midnight Oil: Special Assignment
by taintedidealist
Summary: AU:Can career choices change the directions of the SGH surgeons, but not who they are as a person? As police, paramedics, and CSIs: crime, death, and injuries occur in their city as Callie and Arizona try to get to know each other on a personal level
1. Episode One: Every New Beginning

**Midnight Oil: Special Assignment**  
By taintedidealist and drnik46

**Disclaimer:** We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on _Grey's Anatomy_ which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably _Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Castle, Law and Order_ and _CSI_. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained. I trust that this will not have to be repeated every post as this information will always be the same... and I'll likely forget to do so.

**Ratings:** Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. (Or on here M) We're not good at rating. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time.

**Feedback:** Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.

**Story Information:** This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters lives, but not who they are as a person.

**

* * *

**

**  
Episode One: Every New Beginning**

_It's hard to pinpoint the start of an important moment of your life. There is no stage direction or flashing sign that denotes that this change, however minute, will be what sends you on a trajectory that will become something other than a day filled with the mundane. _

"You'll find that form 112s have to be submitted in both handwritten field notes as well as entered into the computer system for Captain Bailey's approval."

Torres arched her eyebrow as she tried to balance the binder of hardcopy procedures that was just placed on top of the box she was holding. It was what was left of her desk in her old patrol unit, which now seemed shiny in comparison. Gone were her paperless days. Instead, there would be paperwork, and she assumed lots of it.

"So we have to do double duty on daily incident logs that are supposed to be digital?"

Her sergeant smiled tightly and nodded quickly, "You'll find that you have exact instructions here in Homicide."

_And yet, even new beginnings eventually become the mundane. Routines are established, and your new life becomes your day-to-day. _

"You the new Detective?"

"Yes, Sir. Torres," Callie extended her hand to the man in front of her.

"I know you're newly promoted, Torres, but you don't have to call me Sir. It's going to get really old, really fast. I'm your new partner. It's just Sloan."

She flashed him a broad smile. "You're my first partner. I was on a single car unit before at..."

"Great," he cut her off, "I don't need your life story, kid. Let's move. Inventory check is done and you missed roll call."

She looked around frantically. "I don't even know where my desk is yet."

He took her box and placed it on an empty counter next to reception. "You'll get it later. We got a hot call."

_A new case, a new problem, or a new world and it's easier to downshift into sense memory, letting your body take over before your brain has time to catch up. _

"Really?" Torres turned and tried to keep pace with Sloan. He seemed to cast winks at every female in the precinct as they left the building. He abruptly stopped when they reached the patrol car and she nearly ran into his back. "Is there a reason that we're going so quickly?"

Turning, he leveled his gaze on his new partner and his eyes widened, "This is Homicide. We have to work with some urgency because our victims have a tendency of expiring on us."

"Well yeah, but--"

He rolled his eyes, "Get in the car."

Torres closed her eyes for a moment and sent a silent request for calm upwards before sliding into the Crown Victoria. The squeal of the tires on the pavement started before she heard the click of her seatbelt. She hated the smell of burnt rubber.

_The very first time, or the hundredth – no matter, it still feels the same. We're not supposed to be emotionally attached, but that doesn't mean that sometimes it's impossible to follow the rules. You think, "New beginning - this time will be different." And maybe it will… for now._

Arizona powered down the helicopter as two men in white coats ran toward the landing pad. "He coded in flight. Couldn't save him," she yelled over the rotors overhead. "Serious burns; seems like his organs couldn't take the strain. Boiled alive."

She could see the deflated looks of the doctors immediately. "Sorry," she shrugged.

"You could help us bring him in," the other paramedic brushed the loose windblown hair out of her face with her elbow as she stepped over the body, "instead of gaping at lost trauma bragging rights."

"Cristina!"

"Arizona!"

Both the paramedic and pilot glared at each other for a moment before the woman with black hair hopped out of the helicopter. "I apologize if I damaged your sensitive sense of self, doctors."

She gave a mock bow as the younger doctor leaned in, looked at the patient and retched for a moment as the other doctor pushed them to the side, "I can help you with this, Cristina."

"What a gentlemen! Arizona, can we note that Doctor," she leaned in to look at the cursive embroidery on his coat, "Day is a gentlemen?"

Pushing the door of the cockpit open she nodded, "I'll put it down in _The World According to Yang_."

"Excellent!"

"Don't be bitter that you're just the errand girls and we get to fix the problems you drop on our doorstep," Doctor Day replied.

Arizona shook her head as they disappeared, bickering like children. The paramedic assigned in her chopper was growing on her. She reminded her of a bunkmate in boot camp. Precise, blunt and decisive – at least on first impression. Of course, it was only her first official day piloting solo for the EMS, and this was their first call working together, so it was possible that first impressions wouldn't last. Much like that of her bunkmate.

* * *

"Dispatch, this is 416," Torres clicked the microphone off and waited for a response.

"Dispatch, go for 416."

"Please be advised 416 and 359 are ten-twenty-three at Seattle Grace Hospital."

"Ten-four, 416."

Callie placed the microphone back in the cradle and followed Sloan to the emergency room entrance. "I hate hospitals," she said, walking inside.

Turning to look at his partner, Sloan grinned as he backpedaled, stretching his arms out widely, "Oh, come on, Torres, this is where people put Humpty Dumpty back together."

"Oh, really, that's what you think that the hospital is, happy shiny town?"

"No," He shrugged and turned back around, "But it makes the job easier if I go in expecting to see something happy and--"

She quickly rammed into his side as he had come to an abrupt stop. He had a habit of doing that to her. Annoyed, she asked, "What's the stopping about, Sloan?" Her eyes followed his gaze as another large grin spread over his face.

They were hooked onto a medic with blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail who was blowing a bubble of bright pink gum. "That?" Her eyebrow rose and she crossed her arms.

"That is what we call in the field," he leaned towards Torres and whispered to her, "Shiny."

"Ugh."

"What?" he raised an eyebrow. "Just hang back and watch a master work. You'll learn something new, kid."

"You're disgusting."

He nodded his head toward a passing doctor. "No one's stopping you," he said, approaching the nurse's desk.

Torres whispered to him fiercely, "This is not a social visit. We're here to question the burn victim."

"Burn victim?" Arizona looked up. "You'll probably need a psychic. Or a priest." She shook her head. "Or something."

"Excuse me?" Callie asked.

"He died on the way here."

Callie pointed around the area, "And you know because..."

Grabbing onto the finger now pointed in her face, the paramedic smiled widely as she moved Callie's hand down to their sides, "Arizona Robbins. I flew the patient here in my Huey." She patted the back of the stiff detective's hand lightly before breaking contact with her.

"Huey?" Torres frowned slightly and gave her a sidelong look.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Arizona moved her head slightly back and forth, "Huey is slang for the helicopter that I fly, it's a Bell UH-1N Twin Huey and that was way more information than you cared to know."

She smiled in response, "It wasn't so much a question as... well," she paused for a moment and then continued, "color me impressed."

"You must have missed the part about the guy dying," Sloan interrupted.

"Oh, yeah, he was fighting it when we first picked him up at the site, called in by dispatch after assessment from the initial team..." Arizona bit on her lower lip lightly and furrowed her brow. She sighed and nodded to herself, "but we lost him. I'm not sure about the other patient though."

"Great." Sloan seemed disappointed, but carried on. "Then I guess we're done here. Let's go, Torres."

"Wait!" Callie froze. Sloan was right, she no longer had a reason to be there, but it was just too soon to leave. She'd just met Arizona Robbins, for goodness sake. She felt strangely compelled to stay.

"For what? The guy to turn into a zombie or something? Trust me, Torres, they never say anything but 'braaaaaains' when that happens."

Leaning forward Arizona nodded, "He's right," her eyes shot up as she tried to remember something and then looked back at Callie, "that is unless they need 'mooore braaaains'."

Giggling to herself she flipped the chart open again, "See you later, Torres."

"Yeah," Callie nodded, still a bit stunned by the woman in front of her. "You said there was a second victim?"

"Yep," she scribbled a bit in the chart and stretched her neck, trying to work out a kink before looking back at Callie, "female, mid to late 20s, looked like first and second degree burns. Should be manageable once they got her into trauma at Mercy."

"Okay." Callie turned toward Mark who was talking up a nurse by the doorway.

"Oh, hey, and Torres?"

Turning on her heel, Callie looked back at Arizona hoping to, well, she didn't know what.

"Never mind."

"Callie."

"What?"

"Callie Torres." Both women smiled at each other before Callie turned and left, somehow proud she slipped her first name into the conversation.

Sloan pushed himself off the side of the wall as his new partner approached, "What the hell was that?"

"That, my friend," Callie slapped him on the back, "is how the master works."

He looked back at the paramedic still smiling as she watched them leave and then back to Torres, "No way! Are you saying you actually got her number?"

She tilted her head down slightly and pursed her lips. "Not yet."

"Amateur."

* * *

Lexie signed the chain of custody paperwork that the charge nurse handed her, then placed each item of clothing in separate paper bags. She'd finalize the packaging once she got back to the lab and fill out the rest of her forms there. Hospital runs were pretty uneventful. Not very often did she have to deal with patients, but today was different. She was to take some photographs, a victim DNA standard and maybe even fingernail scrapings. Of course, she needed to find out some more information about the assault to decide if that was needed.

But photographs, definitely. Lexie picked up her camera case and headed down the hall to her victim's room. Victim. Patient. It was hard to change her terminology when she was in the hospital.

She turned the corner into the room and saw that an officer was already there taking a statement, "Well crap."

The curtain ripped back quickly, startling her and she saw icy blue eyes staring, "And you are?"

"Oh, uh, hello the process-" Lexie stopped herself, closed her eyes and then jutted out her hand, "Lexie Grey with the crime lab, here to take pictures of the-" she cut herself off again and motioned towards the victim.

"Oh, okay."

She snapped a few overall pictures and then some close ups, the face, the hands, her injuries. She did not envy this woman lying in the bed.

"Any struggle? Fight? Scratching?" Lexie asked.

The woman shook her head, "Not with the person who started the fire. We were just in the car going to eat dinner by the Wharf."

"The gouges by your hands though, what was that caused by?"

The woman curled up her hands from the memory,"Trying to get out of the car, they threw some bomb thing at the car and Nick swerved and crashed and it was all… I couldn't get out so I, I had to get out." She looked back at Lexie with watery eyes and blinked quickly to try to stay calm.

Lexie turned her attention to the cop in the room with her. "Do you have someone out at the scene of the car?"

"Yep."

Damn, Lexie thought. Her coworkers always got all the really cool scenes. She hadn't worked a fire yet.

"I'm just going to need an elimination standard from you, so we can exclude your DNA from anything. That is, of course, if you are okay with that."

"Sure."

"Can you sign this consent form?"

The woman nodded and reached for the pen Lexie offered. "Have you heard anything about Nick? Did you get this from him, too?"

Lexie looked up at the officer and knew the answer immediately. Her eyes turned back on the girl who was close in age to her sister and smiled warmly, "I haven't been to the hospital he was transported too, but I bet your doctor will have more information for you soon."

She knew it was passing the buck, but with hospital procedure even though the patient was stable now, they were not supposed to cause undue stress.

And finding out that you wouldn't see your someone who you were going to have dinner with again... this was when Lexie was happy to be with her evidence and crime scenes. Usually her job didn't involve so much interaction with people.

"So, Officer, I'm guessing maybe I should go to Mercy West when I'm finished here?"

"Tomorrow."

That sealed it for her. She'd be going to the morgue in the morning, for sure. Otherwise, she shouldn't wait so long to collect perishable evidence. How sad.

"This won't hurt; I'm just going to swab the inside of your cheek. Open your mouth for me?"

When she finished, she left the room quietly. Turns out she was working a homicide, not an aggravated assault. A slow smile crept across her mouth. Her first homicide.

* * *

Sloan turned back to the patient and Torres when he heard the not so subtle clearing of a throat.

"What?"

An arched eyebrow was his only answer. He uncrossed his arms and focused back to the task at hand, smiling gently he lowered his voice, "So you said there was an assailant?"

She nodded. "I didn't really notice much, like I said before. How many times are you guys going to ask me this?"

Callie smiled warmly, "Any information would be helpful. I'm sorry for the repetitive nature of this process."

"They were wearing all black?" The victim yawned deeply.

Sloan looked at his partner. The patient's tone made her statement sound more like a question.

Nodding, Callie flipped her notepad shut, "Okay, I know you've been through a big scare tonight so why don't you think on it and," she trailed off as she pulled out a business card from her pants pocket, "give me a call if you remember anything."

Her partner nodded and echoed her sentiments. Before they exited the room, he leaned down to Torres and shoved his hands in his pockets, "You know what they say about eye witnesses, right?"

"What... that they're scared and confused, but always feel like they have some perfect answer to give us so they elaborate when they shouldn't?"

Sloan's lips curled up like he just ate something sour, "I was going with normally they're wrong, but potato, potahto."

Abruptly stopping in the hallway, Torres turned to him, "Listen Sloan, when they reach like that, you know as well as I do that they're done for the night. It's late."

"Calm down, Torres. You're going to burn out really fast here in Homicide if you continue to stay so passionate. We're all a little bit jaded."

She rolled her eyes, "I'm just still keyed up."

"From being in my presence?" He crossed his arms and grinned widely, "I get that. It's the animal magnetism."

With a scoff Callie headed towards the exit. Sloan watched her walk away for a long moment, then followed.

* * *

Sloan pushed Callie forward as he covered her eyes. "Seriously, Sloan? What are we doing, anyway?"

"It's a secret. Stop talking."

"This is some sort of Homicide hazing, isn't it?" She smacked at his hand. "I can't see anything."

"That's the point, genius."

She finally relented as he guided her forward before causing her to turn left.

"We're going somewhere in a basement? No, no, no, I know what happens in basements."

A hand covered her mouth for a moment, "Will you just shut up? I'm not going to do anything to you and the sooner you shut up the sooner -"

They stopped abruptly and she felt Sloan grab her badge and then replace it quickly in her coat pocket before muttering something about sarsaparilla. She heard a door creak open before sounds and smells welcomed her to something she had wanted since the hospital.

Sloan uncovered her eyes. They were in a bar. A glorious bar that was open at eight o'clock in the morning at shift's end.

Callie was surrounded by warm woods, alcohol and other folks just getting off of night work. There were a bunch of other cops, nurses, and doctors surrounding her. A little oasis for her kind.

She whispered in near amazement, "Why didn't I know about this place?"

"You never got a special invitation. Until today. You gotta know someone to even know about this place. It's a secret, Torres. Keep it that way."

He shook his jacket off and hung it on the back of a chair before striding up to the bar and leaving Callie by herself.

"Callie."

Surprised, she turned to the warm voice. She was very sure that the only one that knew her here was Sloan. Maybe someone from her old unit had transferred shifts and knew someone who knew someone, too.

When she saw the bouncy blonde hair and grinning blue eyes though, she was much more pleased to see the medevac pilot from the hospital than anyone else she knew. Her hair was down and she was out of uniform and Callie's heart skipped a beat when she saw her. She was even more attractive than earlier in the day, which seemed impossible.

Callie recognized how lucky she was to encounter her again so quickly. And yet, here she was, still in uniform, her hair pulled back severely, her figure covered with a bulky bullet proof vest and utility belt. Not her best look, by far.

"How did the rest of your evening go? How was the other patient?" she asked.

Smiling slightly, Callie shook her head, "Um, good. She's well; as good as you can be when you survive burns, I guess."

Arizona's teeth pulled her bottom lip slightly before she nodded. "Yeah, burns are pretty horrific." Changing the subject abruptly, the pilot shook her empty highball glass, a lime rattling around at the bottom, "I'm going up for another round, can I get you something?"

"Absolutely," Callie followed her to the bar. "Whatever you're drinking."

"You don't have a preference? C'mon. You strike me as a woman who knows what she wants." Arizona winked at her playfully, placing her empty glass on the smooth wood of the bar.

"After the day I had, I just want it to be something that doesn't burn."

Arizona squinted for a moment, taking in the appearance of the officer, "Something smooth and clean. I get that." She nodded curtly, "Joe? Could you get us two Jack and Cokes?"

The tall bartender smiled at the two of them, "Coming right up, Captain."

"Captain?" Callie wondered how good the bartender was. The order was for whiskey, not rum.

"Oh!" Arizona laughed, her hand resting on Callie's forearm for a moment, "That's my nickname," her eyes rolled up and moved back and forth, "Well, more my rank, but as nickname-y as I get."

"Well, Captain Robbins, then I guess you should know, my given name is Calliope. Like the whistle organ instrument found around carousels."

Arizona handed her a drink. "Or the Greek muse of epic poetry."

"Or that." Callie made a conscious effort to keep her jaw from dropping, so she raised the glass to her lips and smiled.

"Well, there you are!"

Looking to her side, Callie held a tight grimace on her face as she saw Sloan sidle up next to Arizona.

"And here we have the ever lovely Arizona Robbins, saving lives as a real life lead medevac pilot now and not just hanging around the bar like a groupie."

Arizona lightly patted Sloan on the cheek and smiled at him tightly before turning to the other officer, "Have a nice night, Calliope."

"Wait," Callie reached out and grabbed Arizona's wrist. She visibly stiffened and Callie let her go, immediately. "I'm sorry."

With short shakes of her head that caused her wavy hair to bounce around, Arizona smiled, "No, I just... you're fine."

"Are you sure about that?" Callie watched her face as she visibly relaxed and pulled the swizzle stick out of her drink.

"It's okay," she leaned in conspiratorially, "but if he gets on your nerves, I'll be by the dart board, most likely losing horribly."

Turning away, Callie looked to Sloan. "Shit," she said under her breath.

He shook his head, blowing air out as he looked down. "She's tough."

"How well do you know her?"

"I've been trying to crack that nut for a few weeks. Didn't know she..."

"What?"

"Liked darts."

"What were you really going to say?" She took a long pull of her drink.

Letting out a relaxed sigh, Sloan pulled himself onto a barstool and pursed his lips, "You're right. I was going to say liked… well, you."

He chuckled for a moment as a small flush rose on Callie's cheeks.

"It's cute and hot in a 'Can I watch' kind of way."

Quicker than he was ready for, she punched him in the arm, which only made him laugh harder, "I was kidding. Kidding, Torres."

Callie placed her drink on the bar and shook her body voluntarily from her shoulders on down.

"Feel better?"

"Yes. Better. Composed."

"Able to form sentences longer than one word?"

She nodded and looked towards the dartboard where Arizona was trading off with a very focused dark-haired woman.

"I can't have you going over there and not be able to play this correctly."

"You're not my wingman."

He scoffed at her, "No, I'm the master and I'm going to send you in with poise, not grade school antics."

"What!" She picked her drink back up and gawked at him, "Grade school? I am practiced and professional."

"Oh, are you?" He watched her nod as she took a sip from her drink, "So you have her number by now, then?"

Callie's face withered and her shoulders fell.

"Amateur."

"I'm not usually on this side of things. I mean, look at me. Right?"

He nodded appreciatively. "Sure, but look at her."

"I know." She stared across the room as Arizona threw a dart. It hit the red triple twenty and Callie swallowed heavily.

* * *

_And at the end of the day, you realize your new beginning is not just your job. One little chance affects everything else and you realize that you're not sure what to expect tomorrow. _

Arizona's arms jutted into the air in celebration. She turned to the sidebar, grabbing her drink, while Cristina rolled her eyes and set up on the line. "Um, Arizona?"

"Still marveling at my awesomeness?"

"No," Cristina nodded her head toward the bar, "There is some strange woman over at the bar staring at you." Arizona hazarded a glance in Callie's direction and smirked. She was happy to see that her plan was working in her favor. "Blech," Cristina's mouth turned down in disgust, "You are tainting the bar with emotions."

_And tomorrow inevitably comes, and the next day, and all of those chances blur together. Was each one a conscious choice? _

"She's smiling at me." Callie's heart was light with butterflies, the likes of which she hadn't felt in a long time.

"What are you going to do about it, Torres?"

Callie kicked back the rest of her drink before placing it on the bar, "I am going to go and get a number, Sloan."

He slapped her on the shoulder and pushed her forward, "Good," Raising his mug towards the bartender he bellowed after her, "Do not accept defeat!" She glanced back at him and made a slashing motion to her neck which only seemed to amuse him more.

_Or was the decision made for you? Some sort of manifest destiny... a hand of fickle fate. _

Cristina's eyes widened and she mouthed the words 'she's coming' to Arizona, who had her back turned on the bar. Arizona ran a hand through her hair and it came to rest near the front of her neck as she felt Callie lean in to speak.

"I'd love to take you out sometime."

Arizona turned around to find Callie's smoldering eyes connect with her own and for a brief moment she forgot to breathe.

"Calliope..." she faltered for a moment and cursed herself for having light skin as the blush had to be evident now, "I'd like that." Arizona smiled and dipped her head down feeling all too much like a teenager.

"Breakfast. Tomorrow. I'll pick you up."

Arizona nodded. "Can't wait to see you out of that uniform." She winked and quickly reached into Callie's front shirt pocket where a ball point pen was sticking out, and wrote her address on the back of Callie's hand. She couldn't help but notice how smooth they were.

_But when it comes down to it, how the change happened isn't as important as what you gained from it._


	2. Episode Two: Everyone Is Waiting

**Disclaimer:**We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on [i]_Grey's Anatomy[/i]_ which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, _The X-Files_, _Castle_, _Law and Order_ and _CSI_. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained.

**Ratings:**Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time or all in this episode.

**Feedback: **Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.

**Story Information:** This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters lives, but not who they are as a person. Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, and Miranda Bailey work for the Seattle Police Department. Captain Arizona Robbins and Cristina Yang are paramedics. Lexie Grey is a crime scene technician. Crime, death, and injuries occur in their city as Callie and Arizona get to know one another on a more personal level.

* * *

**Episode Two: Everyone Is Waiting**

_Anticipation. It is a noun that can overtake your day. The pieces of your routine that usually keep you calm end up changing into a slow burn of irritation. All because of expectation. That nervous energy that keeps you going through the rest of your day._

Callie pulled the mic from the cradle and tapped on it quickly before raising it to her lips, "416 and 359 are 10-41..." she raised a skeptical eyebrow as Sloan slammed the door shut and shoved a stick of beef jerky at her.

The operator chirped back over the radio, "416 and 359 please be advised there are shots fired in the vicinity of Waterfront Park."

"Maybe we'll have a dead body by the time we get there." Sloan threw the car into drive and forced the accelerator downward, then flipped on the overhead lights and siren.

Callie grabbed on to the window frame. It was really weird to be in the passenger seat of the patrol car. She was used to driving, not sitting shotgun.

"10-4 dispatch," she said into the radio, "We are en route to the scene."

_Eagerness to get the day over with usually isn't the best attitude to have, especially when it's just starting. And it's even worse when the day is nothing but slow, and boring, and ordinary._

Her headset crackled and Arizona hit it with her fist roughly, "Copy that, dispatch, we're in route for the 83 and will be ready for pickup in five."

Easing the stick to the left, she looked into the last glimmer of the sun against the water before turning to her co-worker, who was flipping through a magazine.

"Really, Cristina?"

"Hmm," barely tilting her head towards the pilot, Cristina crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, "I'm about into this shift as you are making it seem worthwhile."

_The days like these, the ones that try to chip away at us, challenging us as to why we do what we do - they make us dig down deep to remember. Saving lives and trying to make right the wrongs... sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't._

* * *

Callie stepped out of the car, her right hand resting on her holster as she assessed the scene. "Did you see what happened?"

The man she spoke to shook his head. "I didn't see nothin'."

"You know the man over there?" She tipped her head back toward the ambulance that Sloan was approaching. It appeared that the victim had caught a couple bullets, received some medical intervention, and was about to take a one way trip to the morgue.

"Nah," he shrugged, "just some guy walking on the line and then the bangin' started."

Her face stilled and she crossed her arms, "We'll really get further when you stop lying for no reason and tell me the truth."

His gestures got larger and he threw his arms around, "Lying? Me? You think I'm lying? I didn't see nothin', Blue."

"Listen," she tilted her head forward and paused for a moment.

"Jerry."

"Listen, Jerry," she dug out a slim pad and pen, "if you can give me some identification and anything that you saw, an attacker, vehicle, anything, it would be helpful." She smiled and relaxed her body language.

"There was a white car and I heard some shots. Quick, like pop pop pop, then this dude was rolled out of the car. Never stopped."

Callie nodded as she took notes. "You think there were three shots?"

"Yeah."

"What kind of car was it? Two door, four?"

"Old, boxy. They rolled him out the back passenger side. Four doors."

"And how many people do you think were in the car?"

"I don't know. It was full."

"Anyone else hurt?"

"Man, I don't know."

She nodded again as Sloan approached her from behind. "Anyone else see what happened?"

The witness eyes scanned over the new detective and shook his head as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, "I don't think so, but maybe, I wasn't really paying much mind."

Callie turned to her partner to see if he had anything to add, but he merely shook his head quickly and nodded to the man, "I think that will be all, sir, but Detective Torres here will get contact information from you. Here is my card in case you remember anything else."

She watched in disgust as Sloan left. He just treated her like his secretary. She quickly took down the address and number from the witness and let him know that he could be called to sign a statement or if they had any follow-up questions. After she finished, she turned towards the ambulance and spun her partner towards her before lashing into him, "What the hell was that?"

"What?"

"THAT. I'm your secretary?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I wish."

"Seriously, Sloan..."

"Don't sweat it, kid. This case isn't getting solved today, and not by that guy. I took a look around and we don't even have shell casings. He was shot in the car and the car drove away. We don't even have a primary crime scene."

"Maybe he saw something."

"He didn't."

Callie rolled her eyes. Today was a total waste already. She couldn't wait to get home, take a shower, and pick up Arizona for their breakfast date. She could hardly keep her mind on anything else, and she knew that it was affecting her attitude.

"Let's go. Maybe the lab will do something with the bullets the morgue pulls out of his body. They're not through and through." Sloan whistled to himself as he walked back to the patrol vehicle.

* * *

The aircraft touched down on the helipad and Arizona saw a huddle of doctors move toward the door. It was being held open by a nurse who was hitching a ride back and forth to Seattle Presbyterian because of transplant protocol at the hospital.

The metal clanged as the patient was loaded into the carriage unit. The nurse took the chart from the physicians crouched by the helicopter and prepped the patient for lift off.

"Dr. Day," Arizona called over the song of her rotors, "we'll take care of it from here."

"Arizona," he nodded as he hoisted himself into the carriage unit and strapped into the jump seat.

Cristina swung her head around the seatback, "Whoa, whoa this isn't a free ride, Doc. We're not doing puddle jumps for your kicks and giggles."

"Hello to you too, Yang." He took both of the confused faces in, "I was requested to assist on the surgery. Did you not get the call from dispatch?"

Arizona shook her head. "I'm having problems with my headset," she replied, frowning. "Welcome aboard."

Adjusting her controls, the helicopter began to hover and neatly took off toward their destination. The city skyline twinkled in the night and car lights were streaming down the roadways, one after another below her.

She let the repetitive sound of the rotors overtake her. It was a comfort, the regular rhythm and vibrations of the aircraft. The radio was silent instead of static, and her mind wandered to the morning ahead. She daydreamed about Callie Torres standing nervously on the other side of her apartment door after a long shift and smiled.

* * *

Sloan squinted at the sight in front of him and studied the slight movements and discoloration. He started to reach forward and then paused, withdrawing his hand while sucking in a breath.

"Are you kidding me?"

He looked up at his partner who sipped on her drink, "I am just making sure that I don't miss something."

"Sloan, you have spent over five minutes staring at taquitos. A nasty gas station taquito is just that," she caught the chuckle from the attendant, "Nasty."

A quick snort at her and Sloan unfurled to his full height, "What is with you tonight?"

"I just don't want to spend all night standing in all the glory that is this gas station!"

"Why?" His tone was slow and exaggerated as he furrowed his brow at her and stared briefly. "That coffee was free, wasn't it?"

Her shoulders slumped, "Yes."

"And it is tasty and warm and free."

Rolling her head back, her arm jutted out quickly, "I just want the shift to be over so I can, you know…" Her hand hit her thigh with a loud smack causing the gangly attendant to look up from his magazine. Callie pulled her arm around herself and leaned towards her partner, "We're freaking out the kid."

"No, you're freaking out. The kid is bored as hell and you, Torres, you are entertainment." He laughed shortly and turned back to the rotating hot snacks.

"Dude, just get a corn dog or a hot dog or something so we can get the hell out of here and I can write my report and go home and you know?"

Sloan rubbed his chin. "No, I don't know. You've used that expression twice. So you can what?"

"I just told you."

"Mhmm." He bent over the hot dogs, watching as they spun along the rollers.

Callie nodded her head toward the door. "Are we leaving any time soon?"

"When you tell me why you're so crazy tonight, yes."

"Come on," Callie widened her eyes and tilted her head at Sloan, "You know."

"You have said that." He pulled the tongs off the metal hook and started lightly jabbing at the hot dogs before choosing one. "But I'm not a mind reader, Torres."

"You're a detective."

"Yes," he nodded at her before chomping into the hot dog, "I question people until they confess. So out with it."

"I'm antsy."

"You're downright annoying. If you act like this around her, you're only getting the one date and she'll end up in a psychiatric hospital trying to forget it ever happened."

Callie straightened up and punched him in the arm, "You're an asshole. How about being supportive?"

"I've known you for less than 48 hours, Torres, this is as supportive as I get for an acquaintance."

"We're _partners_," she smiled at him. "I got your back. We'd take _bullets_ for each other, Sloan."

He smiled widely at her and clapped her on the back as they approached the counter, "Oh, yeah, that's work. What you're asking for is support for your dating life, which is a little... involved at the moment."

Mark felt the glare before he looked down at her, "Don't get me wrong, Torres. I like you, but put on your big girl boots already."

"What?" she took a step away from him. "I'm just excited. I can be excited for a date. With a gorgeous woman. That's all it is. I can be excited! I'm just looking forward to see her. That's all."

"Well then," the grin met Sloan's eyes, "that felt good to get out didn't it, Torres?" He took another bite of the hot dog as he walked towards the exit, "Let's go do some banal paperwork at the station, maybe later I'll let you braid my hair."

* * *

"ARIZONA!" Cristina said sharply, trying to get her attention.

Arizona looked up slowly from her map and pulled the elastic tie from her hair. "Hmmmm?"

"You're zoning out."

She shrugged, her curls falling down over her shoulders. "We're not doing anything but waiting. I already finished the log and time cards. There's [i]_nothing_[/i] to do right now." Her head fell backward and she nodded it back and forth lazily as she started at the ceiling.

"Did you really just say that? You never say that!" Cristina started tossing chips towards Arizona's hair to see if she could create a halo of Doritos.

"Hey, hey, hey!" flapping her arms at the incoming projectiles, Arizona continued, "Just because I said there is nothing to do doesn't mean that you start using me as a human target."

Pursing her lips for a moment, Cristina popped a chip into her mouth, "Then find something to do to make the yawnfest less, well, blah."

"I got something," Arizona hopped up and grabbed her duty bag, pulling a deck of cards from a small side pocket. She twisted her wrist, showing off the pack. "Poker?"

"Gambling?" Her tone was skeptical. "You better have cash. If we're playing, I'm winning your money." Then, in singsong, "Oooooh, you are so going down."

* * *

Leaning back in her chair, Callie heard the spring groan as she tried to look around the support beam, toward the Captain's office to see if the blinds were still drawn. "What do you think she's doing in there?"

Sloan dropped his pen on his desk and pushed backwards toward the coffee, using his chair as a mode of transportation, "Doing Captain-type things."

"That's very helpful," she scowled at him as he poured another cup of coffee.

"Who knows what the boss-types do? Sit behind a desk and push papers around. You'll never catch me doing that."

Callie looked down at the paperwork on her own desk - the report she had written, her activity log, and the thick packet from the court reporter from her deposition last week. Sloan's desk was just as busy as her own. "Yes, paperwork would be a great deviation from what we normally do," she replied, her voice thick with sarcasm.

"What you normally do?"

Callie's head snapped up to a raised eyebrow and a hand resting on a hip, "Um, Captain Bailey I--"

"I-I what, Torres?" The Captain had a presence that was larger than life, despite her small frame, and with the flick of a wrist, another file folder landed on her desk, "Your follow up with the burn case is slop. Redo the case notes."

Callie sat in stunned silence, her mouth slightly agape, shocked. A smile slowly crept up Sloan's face before he slipped into silent laughter, his whole body shaking.

"What are you laughing at, Sloan?" Captain Bailey asked sharply.

Clearing his throat, the smile dropped off his face quickly and he felt the brown eyes drill into his until he looked away, "Nothing, I am working on the call from earlier."

Bailey's finger ticked back and forth between the partners, "Oh, this jibber jabber that you both are doing is work?" Her brows knitted together as she let out a huff of air and turned around, "Actually doing work, is work, Sloan, so _do_ the work."

Sloan rolled his eyes as she left the room. "Welcome to Homicide." He winked at her.

"Is she always like this?"

"Depends. I think I saw her smile once." Sloan looked down at his report and sighed.

Callie paged through the file that was returned to her. "Can I just print out the electronic version? I mean... I've already done this. She didn't even look, did she?" She turned to her laptop and clicked on an icon. "There's no way I am handwriting it. It would take forever and she wouldn't be able to read it anyway. I should have been a doctor with this penmanship."

"No wonder she thinks its slop, then."

Callie's nose crinkled as she rolled her neck and shoulders, "Why is today sucking so hard?"

"So the later can..." Sloan paused for a moment and grinned widely clicking his pen, "suck so hard, too."

Callie threw her pen at him and pouted slightly, "You don't get to make those comments about her."

"Ow," Sloan rubbed his ear, "that hurt, Torres."

He hunkered down over his paperwork and his tongue peeked out wetting his upper lip, "So is that an ever, or is that a for the moment request... because censoring Sloan," he grimaced, "is hard to do."

"I don't doubt that." She sighed heavily and picked up the transcript of her deposition for review. After reading the first few sentences, she found herself daydreaming about breakfast. And for the first time in a while, it was about the companion she would be sharing it with, not just the bacon itself.

* * *

"You really think that turkey bacon is as good as bacon-bacon?" Arizona's mouth dropped open slightly in surprise.

Cristina rolled her eyes and moved her hand dismissively at the pilot, "It's healthier – now, your cards - are you going to show them?"

"Oh!"

The cards fanned out on the table and showed off a brilliant series of diamonds. Cristina leaned forward into her hands.

"How do you keep beating me?" Cristina mumbled into her palms. Her cards lay on the table, three kings with an ace high.

Arizona shrugged and pulled the pot of loot into her arms. "I'm not even really trying that hard," she said, her nose wrinkling as she spoke.

"I've noticed, with all the incessant talk about breakfast foods."

"I'm just trying to figure out which food would be the most attractive to watch someone else eat. So I can order that."

Cristina started shuffling. "That is the stupidest thing anyone has ever said. You should order what you like to eat."

Picking up her stack of cards, Arizona shook her head, "I'm just processing."

"Okay, that-" Cristina pointed and waved her finger around before pretending to gag herself with it.

"What?"

"Process, it's grossly overused and unnecessary; stop the word vomit and play." She threw in a couple of chips, "Your bet."

Arizona matched Cristina's bet and rearranged her cards. Then she started running through the clothes in her closet, trying to remember what was clean, and what would be cutely appropriate for a first date. For breakfast.

* * *

The sun was up and it was finally quitting time, after quite possibly the longest work day in recorded history. Callie split as soon as her watch hit eight AM. She rummaged through her purse for keys and pushed her sunglasses on as she walked to her car. The sun was shining and it felt like spring, though she couldn't decide if it was her mood or the weather.

Callie slipped into the low driver's seat and turned the ignition of her Thunderbird. The engine roared to life and a broad smile spread across her face. Turning on her windshield wipers, she cleared the morning dew from the front window and pulled out of the lot. She rolled her window down and raced home, the wind whipping the loose hairs from her tightly pulled back hair. The large steering wheel passed through her dexterous hands as she maneuvered around the curves.

All the stoplights seemed to agree with her hurry to get home as they slipped to green as she approached each one. The clicking of her turn signal kept time with the song on the radio. It was a beautiful day.

She moved her hand down to the gear shift as she climbed the final hill to her apartment. Some thought it daring that she still drove a manual in the Seattle-Tacoma area, but the Thunderbird had stuck by her and she wouldn't let a couple of hills change that fact. People didn't understand the joy she received from driving her car. It wasn't about the destination, it was about the journey. Callie felt that way about much in her life.

She pulled into her car's reserved spot, then practically jumped out and sprinted off to the shower to get rid of the horribly boring night she had just endured. Optimistically, she thought about how things were about to change, then cursed herself for it.

"It's just one date, Torres. There's no such thing as love at first sight. Do not anticipate the future, damn it. Nothing ever turns out like your expectations."

She took a deep breath and systematically removed the million different parts of her uniform, trying to undress quickly and get to Arizona's on time.

* * *

Arizona turned the faucet off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself, before heading out into her bedroom and looking at the options she had laid out on the bed.

"Ugh."

She tugged on a pair of low cut pink hipsters with a matching bra and recalculated her plan of attack. Forgoing the outfits that were set out, she opened her closet door and peered inside at the clothes that all seemed to mock her.

"Blech."

She picked up a pair of blue jeans and pulled them on. They fit snuggly, and she lay down on the bed to fasten the button on top. Standing, she looked at her ass in the mirror.

"Ugh."

Unbuttoning the jeans, she wiggled her hips from side to side and felt like she was peeling the denim off of her legs until they were in a puddle around her ankles. She pulled one foot out and stepped on them so she could free her other one. Then she grabbed a skirt from her closet and slipped into it.

"Mmhmmm." She nodded. She thought she should show off her assets, as she was actually interested in this woman. She'd been told that she had nice legs before, and decided that it was probably from her heely shoes.

The hangers lightly screeched as they were pushed across the closet rod. She moved from the lighter colors of the spectrum to the darker ones and back again as she hummed to herself. She pulled out a royal blue top and squinted her eyes for a moment before nodding to herself.

"Mhmmm."

The garment slipped off the hanger and the fabric felt cool to the touch. Arizona smiled. The color brought out her eyes. Legs and eyes, the best of what she thought she had going for her. Hopefully they'd help reel in one of Seattle's finest.

Looking toward the bottom of her closet at the line of shoes, she let out a long breath. Heels would probably be a bit too dressy for breakfast so perhaps ballerina flats would be perfect.

"Here's hoping this isn't too dressy for pancakes."

* * *

Callie sat in her car in front of Arizona's apartment, watching the clock tick the seconds by. "Not too early, not too late," she said to herself, gripping a little too tightly to her steering wheel. She looked at herself one last time in the rearview mirror, ran her fingers through her perfectly tousled, curly hair, and reapplied her lipstick.

Taking a deep breath, she got out of the car and headed toward the building, hoping to herself that Arizona would approve of her out of uniform. When she reached her door, she paused for a moment to try to calm her heartbeat before knocking assertively. To her, it sounded too much like a cop's knock and announce, although she did manage to stop short of telling Arizona that she was with the Seattle Police Department and had a warrant to search the premises.

The sharp call from her door reverberated through her apartment and Arizona turned around a couple times, taking last stock of herself in the mirror. She gave a quick nod and pulled the door open.

Arizona felt her breath catch for a moment as she took in Callie's 'off duty' appearance, her hair was flowing slightly in the breeze. Her eyes quickly scanned down to see tight dark jeans hugging curves and a shirt that might become a distraction from keeping her eyes on eyes later. A slight blush worked its way onto Arizona's face as she cleared her throat, "Good morning."

"Wow," Callie breathed out, gaining her composure. "I mean, good morning. You look great." She flashed her a smile and was rewarded with Arizona's dimples as color flushed her cheeks.

"You too, with the great looking," Arizona laughed lightly and her hands twirled around each other, "since I already said good morning."

Pursing her lips together for a moment, she moved her hands down her skirt before she remembered that she didn't have pockets so she couldn't contain her nervousness and therefore had to clutch onto her small purse instead. "So," her eyebrow arched and her voice lowered, "where are you taking me?"

Callie nodded her head toward the street where she was parked. "It's a surprise. In the U District."

Arizona raised an eyebrow. "Really? The U District?"

"Do you trust me?"

Squinting slightly, Arizona's mouth slowly slid into a smirk, "Of course I do." She put her hand out in a ploy of asking for help down the stairs from her stoop. Callie took the offered hand as she continued, "To a point though, Detective, the rest of it you'll have to earn."

"Deal." Callie continued to hold her hand as they walked to the car. When they got close, she pulled her keys from her pocket, unlocked the passenger door, and opened it for Arizona.

"This is your car?"

"Yep."

"Because this is a really nice car."

Callie smiled, proud of herself, "Thanks."

She waited for Arizona to slink down into the seat before shutting the door and heading around the hood, spinning her keys around her forefinger and catching them in her hand before opening her own door and sliding in.

"I mean, it's a really _really_ nice car." Arizona ran her hand along the dashboard feeling the leather before leaning back into her seat.

Callie laughed. "It's old." She showed Arizona the seat belt and buckled herself in. "It's only a lap belt. I promise I won't kill you though. I've had some driving classes for work," she winked.

Arizona buckled herself in, following Callie's lead. "It feels like an amusement park ride or something. It's a Thunderbird?"

"1957. Starmist blue. I love this car." She stepped on the clutch and put it in gear. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

The streets of Seattle rolled by them and Arizona took a deep breath as they passed over University Bridge. She looked at the dots of ships in Portage Bay, "So really, the U District? Did you go there?"

"What, college here?" Callie shook her head and her eyes glanced over to her passenger, "No, I'm a transplant from Florida. Miami, actually."

"Oh really? Me too." She paused for a moment, "Well... not the Miami part, the transplant part."

The University buildings were coming into sight now, "Okay, I'm dying of curiosity. Where are you taking me?" She leaned towards Callie and grinned widely as she batted her eyes, "Please?"

"Right here," she pulled over and parked at the curb.

"Shultzy's Sausage?" Arizona asked, perplexed. "For breakfast?"

"C'mon, trust me. It's Seattle's wurst restaurant." Callie stepped out of the car and ran around to once again open Arizona's door.

She couldn't wait. Opening it herself, Arizona stood. "You brought me to the worst restaurant in the city?"

Callie held her guffaw in slightly, "No, Arizona, it's a play on words. You know wurst," with her hand on the open car door she gestured across the street at the sign swinging slightly in the breeze, "like sausage," she snapped her fingers quickly, "bratwurst."

"Oh," Arizona nodded and then her brow wrinkled, "But a campus dive? Do they even serve pancakes?"

"Well no, but the breakfast is delicious." Callie shut the door and lightly placed her hand on Arizona's back, guiding her towards the restaurant, "I promise."

"So you're sure there are no pancakes?"

"Arizona..." Callie hesitated a moment, "are you a vegetarian?"

"What?" Arizona paused and turned towards Callie, "No, I just, pancakes seemed like a…" she faltered, looking for words that didn't start out that pancakes were a plan that allowed for no mess, optimal talking, and the possible dribble of syrup that had to be cleaned up for her. She cleared her throat and jutted out her chin with an air of defiance, "I'm not scared of a little bit of sausage, Callie."

"Good," she linked her arm in Arizona's and pushed open the door. "You seem like you should be an adventurous type."

Callie requested a booth for the two of them and they were seated in a quiet corner in the back of the seating area.

"So, you're a transplant, too? Where are you from?" Callie opened her menu, but didn't look at it. Instead, she focused on her date, waiting for her answer.

"A little bit of everywhere since I was a Marine brat, but the longest stay is Atlanta." She smiled warmly, "Went to Georgia Tech because of the NROTC program that would lead into a Marine Air Support career as well as the choice of aerospace engineering. I wanted to be an astronaut after the years in service, but that changed after my tours in Afghanistan." Her face went blank for a moment and then she smiled widely, "I retired a Captain and ended up here in Seattle as a pilot of the same type of bird I flew during active duty instead of going to the moon."

Clearing her throat she smiled as the waiter sat down a glass of water that she eagerly took a sip out of before raising her eyebrows at Callie, "You?"

"Wait, you're telling me you settled for Seattle instead of joining up with NASA?"

Sipping on the water, Arizona nodded before she set it down again, "There's a lot that happened during my tours." Arizona peeled the paper wrapper off her straw and fiddled with it, "And even though I dreamed about flying to the moon… it seemed like I could help more flying on Earth. What about you? Did you always want to be a cop?"

"Not really. And quiet frankly, it was the polar opposite of what my father wanted for me, which is probably why I eventually ended up doing it. Don't get me wrong, I love my father. Family is a really big part of my life, but we've had some disputes over the years. He's very wealthy, and I was very privileged growing up. After college I joined the Peace Corps and went to Botswana." Callie looked down and shook her head. "It changed my life, my whole attitude. When I came home, I joined the police academy and came out to my father. He cut me off from the family and emptied my bank accounts. It was a really tough time for me, but we are much better now than we used to be." Callie shrugged. "But I love being on the force. It's a real brotherhood. And I get to carry around a gun and command respect."

Arizona smiled. "Well that's something I certainly understand."

Looking down at the menu, Arizona's nose crinkled for a moment, "It looks like all the breakfast items are a burrito of some sort."

"Ah, see this is where it's nice to be here with me. I used to come here all the time after shift so they'll make the lunch and dinner stuff for you, too." Callie winked.

"Oh, because you're a--"

"Officer Torres, so lovely to see you, it's been ages," the waitress grinned at both of them.

"I know," Callie replied to the waitress. "So long, in fact, it's Detective Torres now."

"You got a promotion!"

"Homicide."

"The dream!"

Callie laughed jovially. "Yes, living the dream."

"So the shooting that was on the news earlier?"

"I was on that scene last night." Callie pointed to the menu, "My usual?"

"Of course. Whatever you two would like," the waitress said. "Anything on or off the menu."

Callie shot a look to Arizona. "No pancakes."

Blowing out a stream of air, Arizona scanned the menu looking for something that wouldn't be horribly messy, "I think I'd like a Hot Italian."

Callie chuckled and said under her breath, "Wouldn't everyone?"

Arizona leaned towards the waitress, "Um, and could you," she paused for a moment and then smiled, "hold the onions."

Callie smiled to herself at that last comment. There was a possibility she was preplanning for later... or that she didn't like onions, which was slightly less acceptable.

"You don't like onions?" she asked.

Arizona's face held a tight smile and her dimples popped as she measured her words, "Is there a way of me answering this and retaining a lady's virtue?"

"I think you just did," Callie smiled back at her, laughing. "So, Afghanistan," she changed the subject quickly, "Marine. A Captain no less. You sound very brave. I admire you." It was Callie's turn to blush. She could feel the heat rising along her neck.

"Hmm," Arizona leaned forward, "serving your country is just that – service. It's not being brave," her eyes softened and she grinned, "but thanks."

Leaning even farther forward, Arizona whispered, "Usually I just get questions about if I still have my uniform."

"Yeah?" Callie reached across the table for her hand, "My questions are always about handcuffs." She ducked her head and then added, "I have four pair, and no, I don't carry them all." She squeezed Arizona's hand and cleared her throat. "So… did you get to keep it?"

Her eyes lingered on their hands for a moment before Arizona looked back up at Callie, "Yes, I have my dress, flight, and PT uniforms and they're still even in my old locker from boot camp." Tilting her head to the side she grinned, "So the Peace Corps - what motivated you to sign up?"

"I wanted to do something important in my life. I just didn't know what. So I decided to volunteer right out of college and I found myself in Botswana working to help fight AIDS and HIV. I ended up with a bunch of kids in an orphanage who had all lost their parents. And I really felt that I _did_ make a difference for those kids." She smiled when she felt Arizona's thumb rubbing the back of her hand.

"So that was the point for you when you decided to serve and protect?"

Callie shook her head, "No, but it's when I knew I wanted to work in civil service. Some days it feels like you haven't helped a soul, but sometimes--"

"Sometimes the rewards fill you up and it's like you helped the world." Arizona rolled her eyes at herself, "Oh my word... I think I made myself vomit from the cute there, change the subject, change it now before I start humming to a little bird on my shoulder."

"It's much different when you're a cop. No one's happy to see you. No one wants to talk to you. The cops are bad news, in case you didn't know." Callie shrugged. "It's nothing like I thought it would be when I first started out. But at least there's some really nice stress relief that comes with the job."

Callie looked up as the waitress returned with their food, which looked fabulous and smelled even better. She grabbed some shoestring fries and put them in her mouth.

"What's your stress relief?" Arizona asked, eyeing her own food.

"Why, are you feeling a little stressed, too?"

"It's not like our careers are the most relaxing and calm-inducing scenarios. Although today was so boring that we played poker waiting for a call to come in."

Arizona picked up the pickle on her plate and started waving it slightly, "But yes, on the days when we're called onto the scene, it's stressful, but I live off the high."

"Me too. I guess you have to be an adrenaline junkie to like flying a helicopter or to race along in a speeding car to somewhere dangerous."

"Oh yeah," Arizona agreed, taking a large bite of her sandwich.

"I'd love to go up there with you sometime."

Chewing quickly, Arizona started to answer, "Mmmmkay," she bobbed her head back and forth trying to get through the bite, "I think it would be easier to get a ride-along at my second job though."

"Second job?"

"Yep," she picked up a fry, "I do the traffic reports for WSDOT on my off days and sometimes I get to be on King 5."

Callie watched as her date munched on French fries, "You mean the television station King 5? You're on TV?"

"What, like you don't get questioned in your job?"

She had a point. Occasionally at scenes they would have to deal with news crews, but she had the luxury of avoiding them as much as possible. She had been on television countless times; she just usually didn't have to speak. The cameras usually were on her when she was looking at the ground with her flashlight or conveniently on her ass as she bent over. "I don't usually have to speak though, thank God. Most of the time we have our public relations guy on that. Of course, if I do, they tend to take the most ridiculous thing that I said and then use it out of context." She waved her hand. "Are you in the chopper when you give those reports? I've always wondered."

"I generally am for the King 5 broadcasts, but the WSDOT days I just relay the information to a radio tech that inputs it for the website and the electronic boards you drive by on the highway."

She squinted at Callie, "Why, are you going to try to catch me at the drive at five spot?" Taking another bite of her sandwich, she raised her eyebrows as she waited for a response.

"Maybe. I can't believe I never heard your name. I mean, I've watched the news before. The only girl I've ever heard on there – Sydney Sullivan – is obviously not you."

Arizona laughed, "That's me!"

"You have an alias?"

Nodding tightly, Arizona reached for some of Callie's fries as she had eaten all of her own, "Wouldn't you?"

Her eyes narrowed in thought and she hummed lightly, "Maybe. Are you just worried about your adoring fans?"

"Hah," Arizona snorted and then quickly covered her face in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, no. I doubt I have fans from the traffic report."

"You save people time. And if I had to pick which traffic person I wanted to listen to, it would totally be Sydney Sullivan. I love her."

Callie's eyes grew wide as soon as the words were out of her mouth. "I mean..." She picked up her drink and took a few heavy swallows, her eyes closed tightly.

"I do have a pretty awesome voice." Arizona waited for Callie to peek at her with those warm brown eyes before she winked at her. "I'd listen to me, too."

Ticking off the discussion topics on her fingers Arizona squinted, sure they had forgot some necessary first date topic, "Okay, we talked about jobs, education, family, but I think I'm missing some Callie in there."

"How so?" Callie's brow furrowed

Arizona could feel her dimples coming out, "Like, what books do you like and all that in-the-free-time-stuff that we're supposed to do."

Callie parroted Arizona, "Supposed too?"

"Yeah, the having a personal life thing."

"Oh," Callie looked genuinely surprised. "You think that I have one of those."

"You don't?" Arizona's eyebrows climbed her forehead. "What would you be doing right now if you weren't here with me?"

"That's easy - firearms qualification training. Right after this I have a hot date with my Kahr PM9," she patted her lower back, "and my on duty weapon, a Glock 22."

"Ahhhh," Arizona nodded, her blond curls bouncing, "Is that the stress relief you eluded to earlier?"

"Not quite," she replied with an evil looking grin.

_In not knowing what is to come, a heightened sense of adrenaline can course through the body. A reaction that can cause a quicker heartbeat, shortened breath, constricted blood flow: in short, excitement._

Arizona glanced down at their hands as Callie slipped her fingers slowly through her own, twining them together, "Feel like sharing that with me?"

"It's just one of many," Callie grinned. "I'll share if you come with me somewhere."

"You're not ready to leave me, yet." Arizona said, jokingly, though Callie felt the electricity between them.

"Hardly, Captain." Callie motioned to their waitress, calling for the check. "Are you game?"

_There are those of us that are made for these moments. We will do anything to create them and anything to keep them going, because it is in these moments that we truly feel alive._

"Of course I am," Arizona responded. She felt a connection with this woman. They had things in common and understood certain truths about each other that were hard to explain unless experienced. Arizona felt not only desirable when she was with her, but also desired by Callie Torres.

"Now, you can't get angry when I win."

Arizona raised an eyebrow, "Oh, so this is a real game that I'm participating in?"

The waitress deposited the check and as Callie reached for it Arizona quickly snatched it up shook her head, "I got this, because _I_ am good at games, Calliope."

Leaning back into the booth, Callie raised an eyebrow at the strategic use of her full first name and smiled, her tongue peeking out between her teeth, "It's not a game per say, more a challenge."

"I've never backed away from a challenge before." Arizona pulled cash from her wallet and placed it on the table with their bill.

_And when we are there, living in the moment, we're not focused on placing blame or ridicule. We're only focused on the challenges that lie ahead, and overcoming each obstacle to our best advantage. Not coming out in the lead, but coming out alive. Living._

Callie slid her sunglasses out of the upper pocket of her leather jacket and slipped them on, "You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into, Robbins." She shimmied towards the end of the booth and braced her hand on the table to push herself out of her seat, knowing that she was showing off a bit too much cleavage, but with the safety of her shades, she could see Arizona's eyes dip downward followed by a quick swallow.

"We need to swing by your place first," Callie said, watching Arizona struggle to move her eyes upward as she stood.

"Why's that?" she asked, finally returning eye contact.

"To get you out of those clothes," she replied coolly before heading toward the door.

Arizona's knees buckled as she tried to catch her breath. Callie was right; she was in way over her head if she was going to continue to play dirty.


	3. Episode Three: Inhale Exhale

**Midnight Oil: Special Assignment**

By taintedidealist and drnik46

**Disclaimer:** We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on Grey's Anatomy which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably_ Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Castle, Law and Order_ and _CSI_. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained.

**Ratings: **Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time or all in this episode.

**Feedback:** Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.

**Story Information: **This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters' lives, but not who they are as a person. Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, and Miranda Bailey work for the Seattle Police Department. Captain Arizona Robbins and Cristina Yang are paramedics. Lexie Grey is a crime scene technician. Crime, injuries, and death occur in their city as Callie and Arizona get to know one another on a more personal level.

**Authors' Note: **We'd like to thank everyone for commenting we do take them into consideration when writing. The more detailed they get the more we know what you like and what you don't like. Sometimes we take that into mind for the plot lines or scenes in the episodes. We also adore it when you quote things that make you laugh (Well at least I do so I can see if Nik gets more points or myself). Also feel free to send PMs my way if you have more detailed comments than you want to leave through the normal comment thread. Hope you have fun and remember at a point in the story you're going to find that you're going to be a detective too... or has that already started? - Bren and Nik

**Episode Three: Inhale Exhale**

_Sometimes we don't see the things that are right in front of us. We walk past each other every day and never notice the truth behind the scenes. Each of us keeps secrets to ourselves and focuses on all the wrong places. Some of us even need to be hit over the head with the truth before we'll believe it._

The lights and sirens were blaring as the ambulance streaked down the street. Yang yelled at the cars in front of them. "Can't you see us here right behind you, idiot! Pull over!"

A gravely voice replied, "Not used to the traffic since you're in the air most of the time, huh, Yang?"

Cristina scoffed at her driver for the second half of her 24 hour shift. He had closely shorn hair and so much machismo oozing out of his pores that it almost made her retch.

"Oh, really, Karev? You want to play Asshole, Alex?" She leaned back towards the passenger door and crossed her arms, "Because I'll win, frat boy. I always win."

"You think you always win," he shook his head, "but sometimes winning is not the end game. Sometimes it's best not to win." He cornered the large vehicle sharply and equipment in the back rattled.

"This is the road," she pointed at the street sign on her right. "Looking for number 617."

They pulled up outside of a small white house and Cristina jumped out of the ambulance, running toward the front door. Neighbors were slowly starting to emerge from their houses to gawk at the flashing lights.

_As reality seeps in, it's easy to let it overwhelm you. Your reflexes breakdown and your brain focuses on what is happening and forgets the simple things it regulates: blinking, swallowing, breathing._

"He's not breathing!"

"Yang, I need you to intubate right now!"

Cristina paused for a mere moment as she looked at the man sprawled out on the floor with blood pooling around his head. Her eyes moved around the room, looking for evidence on scene of what could have caused this blow to the head.

The corner edge of a coffee table during a fall. She looked at his placement at the bottom of the stairs. Perhaps something from above.

"Cristina!"

_And at those moments sometimes you need someone else to snap you back to the present._

Deftly opening up the bag beside her, Yang went through the motions as she prepped her patient, "I can see that, Alex, no need to make this a Lifetime Channel event."

The tube slipped into the patient's mouth and she attached the ventilation bag, pumping evenly as she smiled tightly at the glorified chauffeur.

"Let's get this guy to the hospital, huh?" Karev looked up when he heard sirens getting closer. "I think the boys in blue have finally arrived."

He moved the spinal board parallel to their patient as Cristina rolled him on his side. "C'mon, let's GO!" She continued to squeeze the bag, filling his lungs, while his head persistently bled. "We need to get some pressure on these wounds."

Outside, a patrol officer was stepping out of his car.

* * *

The sweat dripped down Arizona's back as her muscles tensed once again, waiting for the release. She had really missed this; it seemed like it had been years since she had felt... this alive.

They were both adrenaline junkies. She caught Callie's eyes for a moment and smiled widely before turning her head back and pulling the trigger; the recoil pulsated through her arms.

Callie looked at Arizona's paper target down range and holstered her weapon. "Did you qualify as an expert? You're amazing!"

Her blonde ponytail bounced back and forth as she shook her head. "Just a sharpshooter." She placed her Beretta in her holster as well.

"Ah, well, now I'm highly disappointed in you," Callie winked.

"What's next?" Arizona asked, speaking loudly enough to be heard even with their earplugs in.

Waving her left hand, Callie replied, "Draw and fire two rounds, weak hand, combat reload, and fire two more rounds, all in a total of 12 seconds."

Arizona's mouth pursed for a second and her nose crinkled in thought.

"What?" Callie asked.

Her hand swiped in front of her face and Arizona laughed, "Oh, nothing, I just thought this would be challenging." Narrowing her eyes for a moment she continued, "I mean it issupposed to be, right?" she deadpanned.

Callie pushed up her protective glasses, smirked back at her date and replied, "You're funny." She shook her head, "Hilarious even."

"Ready?" Arizona's blue eyes twinkled back at her when she smiled. Callie felt her knees go weak, simply looking at this woman. The fact that she'd changed into camouflaged cargo pants and had a tactical thigh holster for her 9mm only made her hotter. And that was using the term loosely.

"Hot line!" Callie shouted. No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she heard two shots. Arizona's reaction time was quick. Torres unholstered her gun, took off the safety and fired two shots with her left hand. As she was taking out the clip in her semiautomatic, she heard Arizona fire two more. She was finished and Callie hadn't even completed her reload yet.

She blamed her weak knees.

Arizona looked over at Callie as she flipped the safety back on and reholstered her weapon. She watched as the muscles in Callie's arms flexed unconsciously, combating the recoil of the gun. In all honesty, Arizona was very competitive. It ran in her family - the Marines were to be the best.

Her speed at finishing the drills allowed her drink in the tanned skin from Callie's tank top that was just missing the waist of her pants. Her eyes fluttered shut as she thanked static cling for bunching that shirt up to where her imagination could flourish.

It was then that she noticed the quiet in the range and her eyes shot back up to Callie's face and felt a slight blush reach her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Arizona feigned, pointing to her earplugs.

"You're very Zen about the whole range experience," Callie shouted back to her.

The smile broke across her face quickly, "It takes me back to the easy and fun part of the Corps. Back to the basics." Arizona's eyes flicked back and forth in thought for a moment, "Well, to Basic."

A perfectly arched eyebrow looked back at her, "You... you are waxing poetic about basic training?"

"It's like that thing in your past that you spent a lot of time doing and it was torture until you got through it and then years later when you're reminded of it, all you have is fond memories. Like your brain forgot all the parts where you're lying in the mud and climbing up ropes and have blistered hands and sore muscles and no sleep."

Callie laughed lightly. "Yeah, sounds like you forgot all about that stuff."

Arizona bumped shoulders with her. "You know what I mean."

Callie smirked at her for a moment and then locked eyes with Arizona. She pushed her safety glasses up on top of her head, changing the yellow tinged hue of the range back to normalcy, and she leaned closer to Arizona.

Holding her breath, Callie's eyes fluttered shut until she felt her phone vibrating in her back pocket. She grumbled to herself, "You've got to be kidding me."

Arizona just barely felt the brush of her skin and she opened her eyes as Callie pulled away. "Got to be kidding?" Arizona asked weakly before she saw Callie put her phone up to her ear.

"Torres." Callie sighed heavily when she heard her partner on the other end. She was being called back into work on a recent aggravated assault.

Arizona looked at her expectantly. The phone call looked important, but her date hadn't said anything since her name.

"His brain might be coming out of his ears? Might be?" Callie rubbed her forehead gingerly.

Rolling back on her heels, Arizona plunged her hands into her pockets and tried to get the details of the call, but all she could piece together was a rough outline of a scene with a blunt force injury and the clock ticking on the patient.

As the phone call progressed, Callie's gestures became more and more economized and it seemed that she was folding in on herself before the phone was silenced and a whine reverberated through the room.

"I have to leave."

"No," Arizona shook her head. "I don't want you to," she pouted.

Callie reached for her hand and gripped it firmly. "Trust me, I don't want to leave you. But I have to go. I'm sorry."

Arizona lowered her head, a few stray, short curls falling into her eye line, and said softly, "I know. It's okay, I understand." She laced her fingers in Callie's. "You're very important."

"You are too, you know." Callie slid her arm around Arizona's lower back and started walking her toward the car. "I'll take you home first."

* * *

Lexie Grey was in a squatting position near the north wall of the living room placing small sticker rulers next to even smaller blood spatter droplets. She pulled out her tackle box and began searching for the calculator inside.

"Inverse sine of the width divided by the length," Lexie mumbled to herself, double checking her measurement notes. Several calculations later, she had determined the approximate location of one of the impact sites.

She looked around the room once again. The scene was bloody, but fully documented. She had placed letters around the room indicating the path of the attack. There had been one hell of a struggle.

"Now, this is what I call a crime scene!"

Lexie turned to the man entering the room with wide arms. She assumed he must be the lead detective on scene as his police badge swung around his neck. "Detective." Her eyes moved from the obnoxiously handsome man to the woman coming into the room behind him, "Or Detectives."

The woman stepped forward and nodded towards Lexie, "Hi, I'm Detective Torres. This is Detective Sloan, could you walk us through the scene?"

"Sure!" Lexie popped up a little too excitedly.

Sloan cleared his throat, "The paramedics said the victim's head was bleeding pretty badly."

"I'd say so," Lexie nodded. "The attack started over here," she motioned to the corner of the room. "There's a lot of disturbance, the lamp and DVDs were knocked over, as you can see."

Callie stepped over several DVDs as they walked around the room.

"The first blows probably took place in this area. Still no blood flow, so I can't pinpoint it exactly." Lexie pointed to the couch. "Until here. There are some stains here that indicated blood coming into contact with this piece of furniture. And then there is an impact stain right here. The guy was maybe kneeling or partially upright when that occurred. We're about four feet up from the ground."

Lexie pointed to the ceiling. "Up here there is a cast off pattern where blood was flung from the weapon during the strike." Taking a few steps backward, she led them to the final pattern. "Here's more blood, another impact site. But you see this one is much closer to the ground. The victim was either on or very close to the ground when this happened. Probably pretty defenseless. You can also see a large pool of blood right here. I'm told this is where the body was found."

Callie peered around the room. "And what about these other markings?" she asked, pointing to the floor near the stairs.

"Contact with blood that includes movement, maybe a struggle of some sort. There is actually a partial transfer pattern in this area that looks like it might be a shoe print. Medical personnel have been in here though, so I'm going to need to get elimination prints from everyone on the scene before I arrived."

Sloan held out a clipboard. "I grabbed the log-in to sign on my way in," he ran his finger down the page. "It looks like Karev and Yang were the first responders."

"Arizona's paramedic?" Callie asked. For a brief moment her mind was not on the task at hand, but on Arizona's dimpled smile.

"Good, you know them." Lexie stated, "I'm going to need their shoe prints."

"An idea what the weapon was?" Sloan asked, taking stock of the room. Even discounting the knocked over lamp and DVD collection, the place was still a mess. Empty beer cans cluttered all the horizontal surfaces, old pizza boxes and other take out food containers at their side. Unopened mail was stacked up on the floor along with newspapers and dirty magazines.

"Oh, yeah!" Lexie walked over to several brown paper bags sitting near her equipment and picked up an aluminum softball bat. "It was this." The bat was bloody, but otherwise appeared brand new. "I found it under the couch."

"Ouch," Callie responded with a grimace. "Who would do that?"

Sloan slapped Callie on the shoulder, "That's what we in the business call 'your job', Torres. You find the suspect and motive. Did you forget already?"

"If you ask me, it seems pretty personal," Lexie replied. "I mean, who continues to hit a guy when he's already down?"

"Did you find any drugs in the house?" Callie asked absentmindedly.

"No," Lexie shook her head. "Just a ton of beer in the garage. Maybe that's why he was bleeding so much."

Torres shook her head. "Okay." Then, to Sloan, "How's this guy doing? Can he talk?"

"Heard he's still in surgery, but we should go find out."

* * *

Callie leaned against the counter of the nurse's station and closed her eyes for a moment. The ambient noises of the hospital were comforting as phones lightly rang behind her, turning into white noise that softly lulled her into a calm state.

"Hey!" Sloan's voice echoed through the open space and Callie's head snapped up, her eyes bolted open, and she felt her elbow slipping along the counter as her balance shifted so quickly from the rude awakening.

"Were you sleeping, Torres?"

She stood up and brushed her hands down her jeans. "No, why do you – Mm'No, I wasn't sleeping, Mark." The bite on the K in his name showed her irritation.

"Aw," the lines around Sloan's eyes deepened as he chuckled, "I woke up the bear."

"Shut it."

"The grizzly bear."

"Mark -" his name was a warning.

"From hibernation."

"Sloan!" Callie sighed heavily, which turned into a yawn she was unable to control. "How are you not tired?"

"I went to bed as soon as we got off shift. Like a normal person. I wasn't up doing god-knows-what with a hot little helicopter pilot." He raised an eyebrow as he smirked. "Is she dirty in bed? C'mon, tell me. She is." His eyes squinted at her, "Oh, she is."

Her reply was merely to scoff at him, turn back to the nurse's station and smile at the nurse typing into the computer. "Any word on Mr. Nash?"

"He's in recovery right now, should be waking up in a while, Detectives." He smiled at both of them warmly, "I've notified the resident to come and get either of you when he is able to answer questions."

Callie nodded at the nurse and turned back to her partner. "So, we've got a bit longer here. Did you get any coffee?"

"I thought we were partners, Torres," he grinned offering a coffee cup to her before bringing it back, "And partners confide in each other to build trust and camaraderie."

"My sex life does not wander into the job, Sloan."

"Are you kidding me, Torres?" He motioned to his badge, "Our job facilitates our sex life and you owe me stories. Dirty, nasty stories."

She rolled her eyes at him and waved him in closer. Callie pulled down on his shoulder and whispered into his ear, "You ruined any chance for dirty nasty stories with your call, so give me the coffee or I swear to baby Jesus that I'm going to snap."

Sloan laughed silently, his body shaking, and handed her the coffee. "You still didn't seal the deal?"

Callie stood motionless, staring at him, simply holding her cup of coffee. Staring.

"You're staring."

Callie didn't move. Didn't blink.

"So you're telling me the fly girl isn't just a conquest, then? You like her." Sloan gasped. "You really like her!"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

Sloan frowned, his bottom lip jutting out, "No, it's just messy and full of feelings." He took a sip from his cappuccino and jutted out a finger pointing to her, "So there wasn't even a little hint of dirty?"

Callie's eyebrow arched for a moment and she grinned before taking a long draw from her coffee.

He smiled back at her, "Nice."

"Detectives?"

Torres and Sloan turned to the resident who called to them, "Hello, I'm Dr. Grey. The patient is cognizant and able to answer your questions, but of course we'll have to stand in with you in case any complications arise. As always--"

"Try to keep the patient calm and make the questions quick and to the point. Got it, Doc." Sloan finished for the doctor. He pushed off the counter and followed the retreating resident.

When they entered the room, Nash had his eyes closed and his head was bandaged pretty heavily. His eyes had severe bruising, along with one of his cheeks.

"Hello, Mr. Nash," Callie said quietly. The man before her opened his eyes groggily and spoke in a hoarse voice.

"You're going to get this bastard, right? You're going to catch him for me?"

* * *

The door slammed shut and Callie tossed her keys blindly towards the side table as she stumbled through her entryway. Her left hand tugged forcefully on her leather jacket as she whimpered to herself. The whimper soon turned into a whine befitting a toddler.

"Come on!" She shouted at her jacket as it only seemed to hug to her elbow now, doing a fairly good impression of a straight jacket.

Giving up, Callie shuffled her still boot clad feet along the wood flooring toward her couch, where she collapsed heavily.

She used her right foot to try to force the boot off of her left, with no luck. "Eehhh," she whined again. Flailing at her footwear without effect, she resigned in defeat. She could sleep in her clothes. On the couch. It wouldn't be the first time.

Callie reached under her to the small of her back and removed the Glock from her holster. She placed it on the floor beside the couch, set the alarm on her cell phone, and closed her eyes. It felt really good.

Her breathing slowed down and she started to relax for the first time in roughly 18 hours. The calm of her apartment was broken by the vibration of her phone which she knew would be followed quickly by her ringtone.

Reaching out groggily, Callie knocked it and heard the loud, so very loud, vocals pop, "Bad boys, Bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?"

She felt the traitorous phone in her hand and pressed the answer button from memory, bringing it to her ear. "I will kill you. Kill you if you so much as--"

"Day went that well, huh?"

Callie's eyes flew open as she recognized the warm voice on the other end, "Oh my... Arizona. I am so sorry. I thought you were Sloan."

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. Were you asleep? You sound tired." Arizona waivered a bit. She had called for a specific reason and now felt really bad about it. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, I like that you called." Callie rubbed her eyes and sat up straighter, trying to regain consciousness. Her voice was slightly hoarse and she cleared her throat. "Really."

"I almost feel like I should just hang up. Go back to sleep, okay?"

"No, no, no, no, Arizona. I'm awake and alert and--" Callie smiled chuckling at herself, "And completely lying, but that's not the point."

"The point being?" Arizona drew out her last word in a teasing tone.

Callie rolled her eyes, "The point being that I like that you called and I want to hear why you called."

"Ohhhkay..." she hesitated."I'll tell you why I called, but I want you to take a rain check and get a few hours of sleep before your shift tonight."

"No way." Callie shook her head, even though Arizona wouldn't be able to see it. "I'm in. Whatever you're calling about, let's do it." She heard Arizona's laugh through the phone.

"I'm on my way to work. I was going to take you with me to see the city, but we're going to do it another day, when you're awake and will appreciate my flight skills." She picked up her keys and checked the time. She'd have to be in the air in a few minutes.

"But," Callie pouted, "what if I want to appreciate your skills now?"

Arizona slid on her mirrored aviator sunglasses as she stepped out onto her stoop, "Callie, get some sleep, but if you want, turn on KING 5, they're going to turn the cameras on me today."

"You mean on Sydney Sullivan?"

Hopping down the stairs, Arizona trotted towards her motorcycle parked in the alleyway, "Exactly."

"Oh, I'm a big fan of hers..."

Arizona smiled, "She's a big fan of yours, too. I'll call you later."

"Sounds good," Callie replied, and they both hung up.

Arizona pulled on her helmet, kick started her bike, and revved the engine. She was disappointed that she wouldn't be bringing Callie with her, especially since she would have ridden behind her, hopefully holding on to her body in all the right ways. She sighed. There was no real closure to their first date and it was eating her alive.

Back in her apartment, Callie had successfully defeated the boots of doom and flung them towards the front door, satisfied that they landed on the carpet runner and not the tile entryway.

She flipped on the television and heard the warm buzz of the LCD. Callie moved through the channels and landed on KING 5 news as the brunette anchor started talking about the scene that Callie had worked earlier that day. Snuggling deeper into the throw pillow, she laid back, getting ready for the traffic report.

She closed her eyes as she waited, listening to the news station horribly mangle the truth about a brutal beating which left the victim in critical condition. At least she hadn't seen news crews earlier so she knew that she wouldn't catch a glimpse of herself on television, were she to open her eyes.

Not that opening her eyes was something she thought she might be capable of at this point. The television turned into white noise for her, and when she could no longer understand what they were saying, she quietly drifted into sleep before catching the live traffic report.

* * *

Callie awoke to a loud knock on her door. She instinctively reached for her gun and jumped up to peer through the peephole. On the other side of the door stood Arizona. She was holding a motorcycle helmet in one hand, at her side, with her back leaning against the opposite wall of the hallway. She was still in her flight suit, the top half hanging from her hips, revealing a white tank top underneath, aviator sunglasses still in place.

"Oh, my." Callie gulped and quickly holstered her gun. Reaching for the doorknob, she flipped the lock and pulled it open. Smiling at Arizona, she leaned her right shoulder on the frame of the door. The sun was dipping below the tops of the buildings and she noted that perhaps it was getting close to evening.

"Hello, again." Callie said. "I have a slight confession," her eyes closed for a second and then she peeked through her lids, watching Arizona peel off her glasses and hook them onto the top of her tank top.

"And what would that be, Calliope?"

She took a deep breath and replied quickly, "I might have fallen asleep before your traffic report and fabulousness on the television." She covered her mouth with her hand and mumbled with her eyes wide, "I was so tired. So tired."

"Good," Arizona stepped closer and tugged the bottom of Callie's jacket, bringing her trippingly forward, "I'm glad that you got some rest and… I'm sorry that I woke you up, but I just needed to--"

Callie furrowed her brows for a moment in thought before her breath caught, Arizona's head tipping upward to hers. She watched as the clear blue eyes focused on her mouth and she licked her lips. Arizona tugged harder on Callie's leather jacket.

Closing her eyes, Callie felt the soft pressure on her mouth as Arizona leaned in for a kiss. Her shoulders relaxed and her hands ran up Arizona's bare arms before Callie hooked them around her neck.

Arizona clumsily dropped her helmet in the hall and heard it bounce and roll onto the apartment's entryway tile. She pulled Callie more tightly to her, both hands on either side of her jacket lapels, and felt Callie's fingers tangle in her hair at the base of her neck. She remembered that she should probably exhale and inhale again, but couldn't pull herself away from Callie.

This was not her plan. The plan was a goodnight kiss before going to work. A simple goodnight kiss should be over by now. And it wasn't.

Pushing her way into the entryway, Arizona batted at the door, trying to get it to close behind them. When she heard the click of the latch she stepped forward, causing Callie to backpedal into her apartment.

Callie tried to steer Arizona down the hall. She was 87.5 percent sure that this was not, in fact, a dream, but if it was, she needed to thank her subconscious later.

Arizona was pulled another step in a direction she wasn't expecting and felt her foot catch on her helmet. She knew that the next few seconds were ones she would have to try really hard to overcome. Luckily for her, she got to live them in painful slow motion.

Legs tangling under her, she instinctively tightened her grip on Callie. White knuckled, she knew this was not going to be a solo flight. She twisted her body and tried to take the brunt of the fall as they crashed onto the floor, but was largely unsuccessful. The woman she had been trying to metaphorically sweep off of her feet had now literally been swept.

Callie felt a sharp pain on the back of her head when they met the floor, "Ow, ouch, oooow!" Then immediately, both women started giggling.

"Oh, my God. Are you okay?" Arizona asked though laughter, still tangled in Callie, who had her hand at her head. She moved quickly, extracting herself to look at Callie's injury.

"Does it hurt?" Raising her hand to the back of Callie's head, she was brushed away and felt Callie's fingers curl around hers.

"Yes, that was why I ow'ed."

"Let me look at it. I'm a medic, Callie."

"No," she shook her head, "I'm fine. At least I know that I'm not dreaming anymore." Callie rolled to her side and propped her chin on her elbow, "Usually I'm the one with such smooth moves."

Arizona brushed her thumb across Callie's cheek, looking into her warm chocolate eyes. "Please forgive me?" she asked quietly.

"There were plenty of easier ways to get me horizontal." Callie pressed her face into Arizona's warm palm. "Like ask."

"Where's the adventure in that?"

_It can happen in an instant; the jolt that brings our heart back to life, the gasp of air that inflates our lungs, the clearing of our eyes so that we can see what's in front of us once again._

Callie smiled tenderly at Arizona and chuckled lightly. Her eyes lowered and she blushed, "So, I'm an adventure?"

"Hey, hey..." Arizona's voice called, "you're more than an adventure to me, Callie." Her mouth twisted up for a moment, "At least, _I_ think you are, although knowing that I have a helmet as footwear right now," her eyes glanced back and forth quickly, "kinda makes me feel like you're not going to take what I'm about to say seriously."

She leaned in near Callie's ear and whispered, "The moment I saw you..." her voice trailed off. She knew what she was about to say would sound absolutely crazy. Lowering her head to Callie's neck, she mumbled, "Well... you make me lose my words. I can't even... there are many many things going on in my head right now. Many many things."

She took a deep breath and exhaled the hot air against Callie's skin.

_The body's reflexive behaviors control our everyday function. We never think about breathing, or how often our heart should beat until noticeable abnormalities occur._

Callie's eyes fluttered shut and she nodded, "Okay, I was wrong, this is actually still a dream because I'm always the one with the klutz factor and the spewing of words that you wish you could put back in your mouth once you spew them--" she felt Arizona pull away and her stomach turned, as she had actually just pulled the classic Torres of which she spoke.

Her heart started to race and Callie winced, "That was not how I meant for that to come out."

Arizona raised an eyebrow at her, "Mulligan?"

"Um," Callie's mind was running at warp speed filtering through vastly inappropriate responses, her breathing became deeper as she tried to calm her heart rate, and she tried to come up with a different response that didn't put her foot in her mouth. "I'd like to hear about some of those things next week?"

A soft giggle filtered through her worried haze, "Another date? Was that the only thing that was coming to you?"

"That and pizza." Callie's stomach growled lightly, "I think I forgot to eat since, well... since we ate."

_When you return to a stable condition you normally take stock of what caused the change in the first place. It could have been a fluke that never affects you again._

Arizona placed a light kiss on Callie's temple. "Well then, let me make sure that you're not walking wounded and you can get some food."

Extracting herself, Arizona plucked the helmet off of her foot and hopped up, turning back to help Callie to her feet. "See, that's the problem, Captain Robbins. I think that I might have a concussion, so I'm pretty sure you should walk down to the coffee place with me for monitoring."

_Or it could have made a permanent change._

Arizona smiled. "Can we just forget that tonight happened?" she asked. "Let's include memory loss with symptoms of your head injury, okay?"

Callie slipped her arm in Arizona's. "Absolutely not. This is the most memorable first date I've ever had."


	4. Episode Four: Connection

**Disclaimer:** We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on _Grey's Anatomy_ which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably _Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Castle, Law and Order_ and _CSI_. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained.

**Ratings:** Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time or all in this episode.

**Feedback:** Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.

**Story Information:**This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters' lives, but not who they are as a person. Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, and Miranda Bailey work for the Seattle Police Department. Captain Arizona Robbins and Cristina Yang are paramedics. Lexie Grey is a crime scene technician. Crime, injuries, and death occur in their city as Callie and Arizona get to know one another on a more personal level.

* * *

**Author's Note**: As you can see Nik and I take a while to update chapters as we only write once a week (if live doesn't intervene). If you read and like the story we suggest to sign up for the emailed updates so you know when we update.

* * *

**Episode Four: Connection**

_We all make connections every day, however insignificant or meaningful they may be. Some long term, others momentary. Some leave behind our legacy. But those brief moments in time, the small relationships we make and break every day are the ones that may determine the rest of our lives._

"I just don't see it. I can't find a motive for throwing a Molotov cocktail at a car driving by." Callie weaved her fingers into her hair, staring at the case file in front of her. "They seem like good people. Normal, everyday citizens."

"He wasn't all that great." Sloan leaned back in his chair and put his boots on her desk.

"That's unfair. He was cleaning up his life." Torres brushed some dirt off of her desk and looked at her partner disdainfully.

Leaning further back in his chair, Mark ticked off points on his fingers one by one, "Arrest for DUI in 2002, arrest for DWI in 2004, and the grandpappy of them all, a trial after a DUI in 2007 involving the fatality of the person he hit." He flopped the file folder onto his desk and watched as it skidded towards the edge.

"Grandpappy?" She raised an eyebrow at him and stared. After a moment she said, "The jury found him not guilty. He's been in rehab and sober for a long while according to his girlfriend. Besides," Callie rubbed her shoulder, "what's that got to do with anything?"

"Anything could be important, here, Torres. We just have to find the right thing."

"Great."

Sloan nodded, "Okay, he was a recovering alcoholic, was in trouble with the law, had a girlfriend, and was set on fire. What else do we know?"

_The links are what we strive for as humans and even more so as detectives. The time line, the motives, the suspects in a case all come from a connection. Some of them good and some bad, but to succeed and find all of connections to fill out the entire story, we have to think outside of boxes. When crimes are committed, logic and reason skew, but the connections - they stay the same. It's our job to find them_.

"Torres! Sloan!" they both turned to see the petite Captain walking towards them, which normally meant one of two things. Either she had information for a break in the case, or she was going to give them an earful about not finding a break in the case.

Callie looked at her partner and mouthed a quick question _Break_ to which he responded quickly with a small shake of his head in the negative.

"Why am I getting calls from impound about a missing set of keys from that burned out car you two have sitting down there?"

Callie shrugged at Sloan, "You have 'em?" she asked quietly.

"We haven't been down there," he said to Bailey. "Who even cares about the keys anyway?"

"Victim number two." Captain Bailey held up two fingers as her eyes widened, daring her detective to question her again. "Apparently there was some key chain or something of sentimental value. When his family tried to get it from the impound lot at fleet, they discovered the keys were gone. You two haven't been down there?"

"No ma'am!" they answered in unison.

The Captain's hand landed on her hip and Mark winced. "So what you're telling me is that you are going to check out and find _who_ has those keys because victim's families and significant others are important links when you lazy bums are trying to solve cases."

Opening her mouth to add a comment, Callie felt Sloan grab her arm and shake his head again. Her mouth snapped shut quickly and they both returned their attention to Captain Bailey.

"Solving cases, do you remember how to do that, Sloan?" Bailey leveled a stare on him until he looked down. "Whole lot of good it was for me to put Torres with you, what with your supreme leadership. The two of you," her hand motioned back and forth between them, "are purgatory for cases. You two have more outstanding unsolved cases than any other unit in Homicide."

"Ma'am the factors leading into summer with the low economy and better weather naturally leads to a higher crime rate." Callie's own eyes widened as she realized she had just spoken words that sounded like an excuse, and a lame one at that.

Bailey smiled for a quick moment and then her voice dropped, becoming more intense, "Thank you for that crime rate analysis, Torres, but I don't care about the spike in occurrence of crimes. What _I_ care about is solving cases which is what I thought you two were being paid for."

"Yes, ma'am," they both replied in unison.

"Results, people!" With that, Bailey left the room, in all likelihood off to torment more of her underlings.

"Is that true?" Callie looked to Sloan, slightly defeated. "The highest unsolved rate?"

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't let it get to you, kid. We're not done, yet."

* * *

The screen door slammed shut behind Callie as she walked across the street to the unmarked police car. She pressed down on the speed dial for Sloan as she slid into the front seat. It felt nice to drive again, even if it was just for follow up interviews.

"Sloan."

"Torres here, got a description from the second vic about the key chain. They said they went to the impound after she was released from the hospital, so whoever took it did so in the span of three days from the initial tow."

She heard a screech of wheels over the phone and rolled her eyes, "Tell me you're not doing donuts in the parking lot."

"I'm not doing donuts in the parking lot." Mark grinned as he pulled a hard turn out of the impound just to make the tires squeal again. "I am checking the turning radius. Anyways, the lovely attendant Cheryl said they do a key inventory daily and noticed it missing the evening after the car was brought here."

"And no one told anyone?" Callie rolled her eyes.

"It's not like you need a key to that thing. You can't lock it, you can't drive it. Apparently they don't have a procedure to follow in this instance." Sloan sped down the street, running through an intersection as the light turned yellow.

"So what did Cheryl say? Did they lose it? Does she think it was stolen? Did she see anyone milling around the keys?" Getting information from Sloan was sometimes impossible. She would much rather question people together so she actually knew what was going on.

"Cheryl was very helpful. She didn't see anything. But if you ask me, in all likelihood, they were lost in the mess of fleet operations. You thought my desk was messy."

"Did you even ask any of those questions?" Callie asked, exasperated.

"Those and many others. They're lost, Torres."

Flipping her blinker on, Callie pulled into the underground parking of the hospital, "You're not following all avenues. What if it wasn't the car key that the person who stole them was after?"

Mark snorted, "He had another girlfriend who wanted the key chain too?"

"No," Callie balanced the phone between her chin and shoulder as she unbuckled herself to get out of the car, "I mean the other keys on the key chain, Sloan. What if it wasn't the car they wanted to get into? When I spoke with Sharon, the girlfriend, she said that the other keys on there were for his apartment, gym locker, and safety deposit box."

The patrol car Sloan was driving skidded to a stop. He cut the steering wheel to snag the parking spot by the side entrance to the Medical Examiner's office. "So you're saying they put the car into flames, waited for the EMS units to extract the victims, and followed the car to the impound lot just to get a key to a gym locker?" He kicked the driver's side door open, "You're reaching, Torres."

"Yes, the gym locker, not the safety deposit box." Callie entered the building and took the elevator to the basement, hoping her cell phone service wouldn't cut out on her, effectively making her lose this argument.

"This guy didn't have anything important. He was a loser."

Stepping out of the elevator, she saw her partner at the end of the hall and shot him a scathing look. "Sloan!"

He turned, having heard his name in stereo, down the hall and in his ear.

Callie pointed her phone at him like a weapon, "You!"

"Are a debonair and devastatingly handsome man? Yes, I know." He slid his phone into his back pocket, and winked at his partner as she double-timed it towards him.

They met at the juncture in the hallway towards the morgue and Callie slapped him on the shoulder, "Stop calling our victim a loser and stop brickwalling my lines of investigation."

Sloan pouted for a moment as he rubbed his shoulder, then followed Torres as she walked toward the humming florescent lights, "Come on, you know I was just riling you up."

"No, you're being an ass."

"Isn't that what riling up is?"

She shot him a look over her shoulder as she pushed open the morgue's swinging double doors.

"Ah, there you are. I've been waiting for you two." The handsome man stepped forward with a warm smile and extended his hand to Callie. "I don't think that we've met, yet. I'm the medical examiner, Dr. Derek Shepherd."

Callie returned his greeting. His hand was smooth and warm and strong. Dr. Shepherd looked past her and nodded his head as he said, "Detective Sloan."

"Derek."

Shepherd laughed shortly which turned into a hum as he nodded towards Sloan. The dark curls from his hair bounced around before he turned towards the body. "If you both could put on gloves if you intend on touching the body anywhere it would be highly appreciated."

"What was that?" Callie asked as she pulled on a glove looking to her partner and then the doctor.

Turning towards her, Derek grinned, "Oh, detective, that is history. Old, old history that you do not need to be worried about."

He motioned back to the body, "Now our friend Mr. Nash here, on the other hand, is who we should worry about. Or should I say whomever did this to him is who we should worry about."

"Derek, can you just drop the theatrics and give us the information we need?" Sloan crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall.

"Yes, fine." Derek pointed to an area on the victim's head where his hair was shaved. "This laceration is the location of one of the initial blows. Neurosurgery got a hold of him and tried to repair the damage, but there were some complications."

"As you can see, he also had broken bones in his face that caused internal bleeding. That's why he has two black eyes and he was bleeding from the nose and mouth at the scene of the attack. I can guarantee it."

He pulled the skin flap back, exposing the skull. "These cuts were made in surgery, but the cracks and breaks in the skull," he pointed his gloved finger along one of them, "these are from the trauma. There were extensive subdural hematomas and increased intracranial pressure. It's pretty amazing this man survived as long as he did."

"Were there any other injuries besides the ones to the head and face?" Callie asked, looking over the body before them.

Derek nodded and ran his hand along the arm, "As you see here, bruises and minor cuts along his arm," he rotated the arm and pointed to the knuckles, "as well as here, indicate that there was a bit of a struggle, but not prolonged."

Pushing off from the wall, Sloan shoved his hands in his pockets, "So you're saying that possibly on the initial hit, the victim tried to fight the assailant, but on subsequent hits -"

The ME interrupted, "He most likely lost consciousness, yes."

Dr. Shepherd moved to the other side of the victim and rolled the hand up, "And as for scrapings under the nails, we'll have to see what the crime lab comes up with. The only thing I noticed in there were small flecks of what appeared to be chewing tobacco." He shrugged as he lay the hand down with care, "It looks like a messy, but clean kill here, detectives."

Callie sighed. "Any idea what the weapon might have been?"

Dr. Shepherd nodded, "I have a few ideas. It was broad and long. Something like a pipe or a baseball bat."

"An aluminum softball bat?" Sloan questioned.

"Sure, sure," he nodded some more.

Callie looked at a table near the gurney their victim was lying supine on. There was a plastic bag sitting on top of it. "Are those the victim's belongings?"

"All the personal things the crime scene tech didn't take."

Callie walked over to the table and peered at the contents through the clear plastic of the bag. Inside she saw a cell phone, wallet, chapstick, canister of chewing tobacco, gum wrapper and thirty five cents.

"Did any family come to make the ID of the body?" Sloan asked as he scanned the body trying to find some clue.

Clicking a pen and slipping it into the pocket of his scrub top, Derek nodded, "Mmm, yes I think it was a sister."

"How did she seem?"

"Do you want to be a bit more specific, Mark?" Dr. Shepherd paused for a moment and then cleared his throat, "She was calmer than most when they ID a body, specifically with injuries this severe."

"Did she take any of his personal items?" Callie asked, still looking at the bag.

"No," Derek pulled his latex gloves off and threw them in a biohazard box. "She didn't stay long." He paused for a moment and then said, "Oh, one more thing I didn't mention - he had cirrhosis of the liver. Not sure how important it is to you, but it will be one of my findings."

* * *

Arizona peeled off her flight suit in the locker room as she pulled on her dog tags that held the key to her locker.

"Why do you still wear those to work, Robbins?" Cristina jangled her massive set of keys as she worked on her own locker. She nodded her head towards her partner. Waiting for an answer, she pulled it open, tugging out a black messenger bag.

"Just for ID, Yang," Arizona drawled out the last name as she smiled warmly, "Who knows what body parts they would find if we ever crashed."

Straddling the bench, Cristina plopped down, "I'm not sure I like the pilot of my medevac talking about things like the ifs of crashing."

She felt the sharp push of Arizona's boot as she nudged her leg, "Oh, come off it, Cristina. I'm just being realistic."

"Morbid."

"Potato, Potahtoe." Arizona retrieved her phone from her locker and scrolled through her contacts before landing on a number that made her grin. She heard a mild retching sound and leveled her gaze at the medic who was pretending to gag herself and asked, "Are you done yet?"

Cristina shrugged, "Why don't you call the girlfriend already?"

"She is not a girlfriend, she is a... Callie."

Arizona could feel the eye roll without even raising her head to look and she quickly punched the button to call her non-girlfriend.

"Hey there!" she said cheerfully into the phone when Callie answered. "I was just wondering what you were up to. It's kinda of slow here."

Arizona gave her best stern-looking face to Cristina, silently telling her to stop making faces at her. She didn't listen. "Oh, that bad?" she replied into the phone.

Cristina watched her pilot's cute little button nose crinkle up and put her hands around her own throat in mock strangulation. She kicked her boot heel on the floor and stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth. Arizona turned her back to fake-dead Cristina.

"Then let me buy you a cup of coffee." A short pause. "Sure, I can bring her, too."

Arizona looked over her shoulder. Cristina had one eye open, looking at her with curiosity. "Are those the boots you were wearing last night on call?" Arizona asked.

Yang nodded.

"Sure. We'll meet you there."

* * *

Callie leaned back in the wooden chair and flipped through the file folder trying to notice something that stood out, but the shooting seemed straight forward, and without the car or the initial crime scene all they had found was a dump and go from some gang.

Her eyes lifted to the bay of windows as she saw the sun rise above the buildings. She watched as people walked in getting the morning cup of coffee to run off to the droll office job of 8 to 5 almost like walking zombies until they entered the caffeinated aroma of Java Co.

She heard the bell on the door ring again and her eyes looked back for blonde hair and sighed as she was greeted instead with a bald middle-aged man. Throwing down the case file, she leaned forward placing her elbows on the table, as she sunk her fingers into her curly hair.

The other two unsolved murders were more interesting, more violent, and as Sloan liked pointing out, less than upstanding citizens. Both had rap sheets - one longer than the other - both appeared to be alcoholics from the charges levied against them, and there was not significant trace evidence at either scene.

She whined lightly to herself and rested her forehead in her hands. What did they have? A burned up car that the suspect didn't get close to. A missing key. A softball bat. No forced entry. A few partial shoe prints. Two dead alcoholics. And a partridge in a pear tree. She sighed. There was no way she was ever getting into Captain Bailey's good graces.

Callie paged through the latest homicide report and thought about what Dr. Shepherd had told her. Cirrhosis confirmed the chronic alcohol abuse. And with the victim's history, it also confirmed that he hadn't stopped the abuse. She remembered all the empty beer cans at his house.

Callie closed the case file. This line of reasoning was getting her nowhere. Having problems with alcohol did not make you a prime candidate for murder. There was something else. Someone in his life that had motive for an opportunistic beating. "Think, Torres."

Arizona set another cup of coffee on the table in front of Callie with a gentle smile. Still, it startled the detective, who was deep in thought. "When did you get here?"

Pursing her lips and humming for a moment, Arizona said, "After the grunt of frustration, but prior to the initial head in hands movement, which was kind of adorable," her eyes rolled up in thought before landing back on Callie, "Actually the whole thing was adorable."

Callie shook her head softy side to side and took the new cup of coffee, sipping at it lightly. She began to open her mouth to say thanks, but Arizona's partner plopped down in the chair beside her, "Torres. So Arizona says you are going to take me on a tour of the crime lab." Yang picked up one of the file folders and started flipping through it.

Callie's brow furrowed. "Sure, if you want to call it that." Her eyes shot to Arizona.

"What? You wanted me to get her down here, didn't you?"

Looking over the folder between the two women, Cristina narrowed her eyes, "Hey, I know what elimination prints are, okay? At least give me the buzz through of the units."

Callie sighed deeply, "This counts as a favor."

"Fine, whatever." Cristina picked up the cup that Arizona had set down and took a big drink out of it.

"And, I think I'm going to get another coffee," Arizona hooked her thumb back at the counter, "And Yang, play nice while I'm gone."

"What's with the shocked look, Torres?" Cristina asked, pointing to Callie's face.

"You just took her coffee!"

"Oh, that." Cristina waved her hand. "We're partners. Like sisters. Which reminds me, if you hurt her..."

"Really?" Her eyes grew wide. "You're pulling the big brother routine on me?"

Yang poked her finger into Callie. "I mean it. And yes, someone has to."

"She's a big girl, Yang. She can take care of herself."

"She's got a tough exterior but she's a little too fluffy on the inside." Cristina took another long pull from her newly acquired drink and turned up her nose. "Even her coffee is girly."

"I like that about her, it means she won't drink mine." Callie's eyebrow cocked as she nodded at the case file that Yang was rifling through. "That's the case that you worked with the beating. Did the vic-," she stopped herself, "the patient, was he coherent at all when you arrived on scene?"

Yang shook her head, "No, did you not get the report from the ER?"

Taking a deep breath Callie leaned back, "I got the report, I'm just - never mind."

"And, I'm back, what did I miss?" Arizona smiled widely as she sipped on her coffee, a bit of whipped cream remaining on her nose.

Yang tapped her nose lightly and then saw her partner's eyes widen in embarrassment.

Arizona ducked her head and quickly wiped her nose, mouthing a quick 'thank you' to Cristina. Callie could only smile in response.

"Anyway, we nearly lost him on scene. There was a bunch of blood in the house. I wouldn't be surprised if I stepped in something. How is that old guy?"

Callie shrugged, "Dead."

"Bummer," Cristina shrugged back in response.

* * *

Mark nodded as he leaned against the cubicle wall, "That makes so much sense now that you explain it like that. I just wasn't thinking about it like that, Grey."

A slight blush rose on Lexie's cheeks, "You can call me Lexie, Detective."

His wide smirk turned into a full grin, "Well Lexie, you can call me Mark, then."

They both turned to a very loud clearing of a throat as Callie crossed her arms in front of her. She tossed her head back, pointing, "Grey, I brought the medic who was on scene. Cristina Yang, this is Lexie Grey." Callie pointed roughly at Mark and then towards the hallway outside of the crime lab.

She motioned back into the lab where Arizona was shaking hands with the young crime scene investigator. She laughed lightly, her blonde hair shaking back and forth over her shoulders as she patted Yang on the shoulder.

Mark felt a tug on his elbow and looked into his partner's angry eyes, "What?" he asked innocently.

"What was that?"

"I'm just trying to make a connection, Torres."

"There should not be any sort of connection between you and that too-young-for-you-CSI, Sloan!" Callie whisper-yelled at her partner.

"You're jumping to conclusions. Who said I was interested?" He raised an eyebrow to challenge her.

"She's of the female gender. You're interested. You were leaning, there was looking, you're interested."

"What about her?" Sloan pointed into the lab at Arizona, who was being escorted away with Cristina, deeper into the building. "What is that about? You're interested in making a connection, too. How can you judge me?"

"Because being with Arizona Robbins is not just about sex."

"How do you know I'm not interested in more than sex with Lexie Grey?"

"Because I have met you, Sloan."

He crossed his arms at her and pouted, "I take offense to that."

"Because it's true?" Callie challenged him.

His mouth opened and then closed and he moved his hands to rest on his hips, "What do you mean, she's too young for me?"

Callie smiled and then laughed at him before patting his arm. "Come on, she has to be like, 25."

"She's 24, graduated from George Washington and transplanted here. Something about re-kindling family connections." He looked back into the lab, "I was listening and not hitting on her and 24 is not too young."

"24 is pre-pubescent for you. Keep away from the young, impressionable youth, Sloan." Callie watched him and realized every word she spoke was only making Lexie more appealing. "Sloan."

He knew the way she said his name was a warning and he looked back at her, "Torres." He blinked at her for a few seconds and then said, "Besides, I was referring to our unsolved cases when I said I was trying to make a connection. Motive, mostly. Somebody beat him to death with a baseball bat."

"Softball," she countered.

"Somebody beat him to death with a softball bat. Do you hate anyone that much?"

"No."

"Me either," Sloan shook his head.

"An ex?" Callie volunteered.

"He hasn't been seeing anyone recently."

"Drug dealer?"

"Tox screen was clean, aside from alcohol."

"Someone he met in prison?" she offered, nearly exasperated with this case.

Sloan paused and shook a finger at Callie. "I like that."

"I was joking," Callie said wearily.

"Not the prison thing. He had that car wreck where he was convicted of secondary manslaughter... What if the family of the person he killed… what if they were unhappy that he was let out of prison? That's a good motive."

"Yeah," Callie nodded her head in agreement. "That is a good reason." She referred to the case file. "The victim's name was Sonya Staponski, 20 year old, white, female."

"She got family?"

"Her family is back in Iowa, where she came from. She was a student here at the University. The file does list a girlfriend at the time. We could check on all of them, see if they were in the SEATAC area lately." Callie nodded. It felt like a real lead and she let out a deep breath.

"That is good detective work, there Torres." He edged back toward the lab, "I thought you were out of here earlier. It's not like you had to babysit the medic to have her boots processed."

"That was just a fortunate coincidence. I was actually doing the same exact thing you were doing."

"What?" Sloan asked, slightly confused.

"Mixing business with pleasure," Torres smiled.

"Blondie?"

"She's Yang's pilot. I've got connections of my own to pursue."

* * *

Arizona flipped through the queue on Callie's Xbox, "So what are we in the mood for action, drama, comedy, romance?" She smelled the fabulous wafting of spices coming out of the kitchen as Callie prepared what she was terming a _light snack_, which she was pretty sure was Robbins for _meal_.

"Is there an all of the above category?"

Pursing her lips together, Arizona squinted for a moment, "I'm not seeing one, although they do have 'Pithy British Comedies'. Isn't that a bit redundant?"

In between light singing, of what she was pretty sure was Spanish, Arizona heard more direction from Callie, "Just pick something, I'm sure I'll like it."

"That's like the kiss of death. What if you hate it?"

Callie peeked around the counter's edge into her living room, "I'll pretend to love it, just make a decision."

_We either make them or we don't. Those split second calculations that get us to the handoff. The caller to dispatcher to the radio's crackle to first responder. Speed is what gets us to the final destination with either a live patient or a dead one. If we make the correct connections in the relay race of Emergency Services, we get to pat ourselves on the back for a moment. If not, we shake it off._

Arizona furrowed her brow as she scrolled through the movies. "I don't want you to fake it. That doesn't bode well for this relationship."

"Oh my god, you have to pick something!" Callie yelled to her from the other room. "You're supposed to be good under pressure. You're supposed to be able to make really good decisions under fire!"

"If you don't give me more direction, we're going to watch this PBS documentary on the Marine Corps!"

"Sounds great!" Callie sang back, washing her hands in the sink.

_Trying to eke out the right turn, the correct bank, and clear coordinates can help you get to the connection, but sometimes it's just blind faith that sets you down on solid ground._

"Okay, I'm ready when you are, Calliope!" Snuggling into the couch cushions, Arizona grinned at her selection. It was the perfect blend of movie all tied up with a Hallmark type ending; her favorite kind.

A soft growl came from the kitchen and Arizona extracted herself from the sofa and glanced into the kitchen. "You grumbled?" Arizona questioned before starting to giggle lightly and covering her mouth to try to stifle the peals of laughter that were trying to sneak out.

"Hey! No, there is no laughing, there was just a minor incident that happened to send a few droplets of red sauce into my general direction." Callie motioned towards her face which looked as if she had an outbreak of the chicken pox.

Arizona crossed her arms and nodded along, "Yeah, just a few on your face," she pointed towards Callie's white t-shirt, "and then that large glob on your shirt."

"Are you eating with me or laughing at me?" Callie asked, looking down at her shirt and wiping at it with a kitchen towel. She shook her head. "I made a mess. Lemme change this shirt." She slipped into her bedroom, leaving Arizona on the couch.

When she returned a few moments later, Arizona had spread the food she prepared on the coffee table and was curled up on the couch again. "We're never going to be able to eat all of this."

Callie shrugged. "I have a problem only cooking for a few people." She slid onto the couch next to Arizona, taking the seat in the middle instead of the end. "So, what movie did you finally pick?" she asked, leaning back. Arizona had already pressed play.

Sitting the controller down, Arizona leaned back and pulled her knees up to her chest. She laid her chin on them and glanced over at Callie. Her brows furrowed as she watched Robin Williams appear on the screen.

"Jumanj- no you don't see him until later. Hmm, not Mrs. Doubtfire for sure, but around that time frame. Robin Williams and little kids..." Callie spoke out loud, but Arizona could tell it was only to herself.

A wide grin broke out on her face as she looked over at Arizona, "Hook!" After she jutted her arm in the air as a sign of victory she brought it down in confusion, "This is the movie you pick that is an 'all of the above' movie?"

"Yes, silly. You wanted action, drama, comedy, and romance. This movie gives you sword fights and pirates, a non-food food fight, unrequited love, the use of your imagination, and Julia Roberts with an awful haircut. All of the above," she said with a dimpled and very proud smile. Then with a glint in her eye, she leaned in and bumped Callie's shoulder with her own. "Yes, I can make good decisions under pressure," she whispered.

"You're right," leaning in, Callie kissed Arizona lightly and pulled back for a second, "not to mention the mermaids."

A smile tugged at Arizona's mouth, "Did I leave that out?"

She watched as Callie bobbed her head back and forth before her nose crinkled, "You might have forgotten that part."

"Ah," she looked up at the ceiling for a moment feigning embarrassment, "I may have glazed over that portion."

Arizona slipped an arm around Callie and pulled her closer. Together, they tangled their limbs and cuddled on the couch, Callie resting a plate of snacks on Arizona's stomach, from which they both ate. Both made comments every once in a while, but their focus was largely on the movie and the comfort of being together.

As the movie wore on, they both let the exhaustion of the day overtake them and fell asleep in each other's arms.


	5. Episode Five: Pinch Me

**Midnight Oil: Special Assignment**

By taintedidealist and drnik46

**Disclaimer: **We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on _Grey's Anatomy_ which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably _Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Castle, Law and Order_ and _CSI_. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained.

**Ratings:** Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time or all in this episode.

**Feedback:** Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.

**Story Information:** This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters' lives, but not who they are as a person. Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, and Miranda Bailey work for the Seattle Police Department. Captain Arizona Robbins and Cristina Yang are paramedics. Lexie Grey is a crime scene technician. Crime, injuries, and death occur in their city as Callie and Arizona get to know one another on a more personal level.

* * *

**Episode Five: Pinch Me  
**

Arizona tucked her flight suit into her boots and tugged the laces, then threaded them through the remaining holes. She was whistling a quiet, upbeat tune to herself as Yang walked in. Her paramedic uniform clashed with the faded lockers behind her. She stood, staring at Robbins silently.

"What?" Arizona looked up from her newly shined boots.

"You're whistling." Cristina's eyes were wide and she waved her hand in front of her. In her world, this was enough of an explanation.

Arizona raised her eyebrows and laughed lightly, "I thought you disliked singing."

Pulling her locker open violently, Cristina tossed her black backpack into it, "I also despise whistlers."

"Is there anything that you don't despise, Yang?" She tucked her aviator sunglasses into her pocket.

Cristina cocked her head and smiled mockingly, "I don't despise you, Darling."

Imitating Cristina, she tilted her head to the side, "That really gets me right here," Arizona patted her heart a couple times.

"Ha ha," shutting her locker, Cristina twirled the lock's dial. She patted her hands back and forth on her hips, her keys jingled. "Are you ready yet, or do you need to do more OCD rituals before we can check in with control?"

"Pre-flight check, first." Arizona grabbed her helmet and turned to leave. "And I'm taking the stairs to the roof."

Cristina yelled after her, "So more OCD stuff then? Okay, I'll wait here and count the tiles on the ceiling."

_Some days you just get it right. Things fall into place; the little ones don't bother you, and the big ones make you smile. Your work is meaningful, you feel appreciated, and you know you are loved. Hell, you might even be in love yourself.  
_

* * *

"Do either of you even realize that your job involves solving crime and catching criminals, or do you think just putting on that uniform and smiling that smile is all you need to do? Except for the eating of jelly filled pastries and drinking coffee, because I have seen the powdered sugar trail of lazy all around you. I smell the burnt coffee of unproductivity. It's all over the two of you." Bailey crossed her arms and cocked her head at the two detectives standing in her office.

"L-A-Z-Y you reek of it, and that smell, Sloan!" she rose from her seated position and brushed the top of her desk lightly with her hand, watching as it dusted off nothing, "That smell, Torres, better be gone, and I better hear solid leads, because Bailey's homicide unit is not lazy. Am I right, Detectives?"

_And some days not.  
_

"You're always right," Sloan replied.

"That's right, I'm always right," Captain Bailey responded more coolly than her tirade. She caught Torres square in the eyes. "What are you grinning about, Detective?"

Callie's eyes widened in shock and she sputtered, "Nothing, I wasn't - I - my face is stupid, Ma'am."

"Hmm," Bailey pursed her lips for a moment, "Finally, something we agree on, Torres."

_And even when nothing seems to be going right, still someone out there can make you smile.  
_

* * *

Arizona powered up the helicopter and was staring at a clipboard in her hand. She said into her helmet microphone, "I'm waiting on you now, Sugar."

Sinking into the bucket seat beside her, Cristina fastened her five point harness while she hooked her foot on the door and slammed it shut. "Ready when you are, Lemondrop."

"Hey!" Arizona lowered the clipboard, "Don't slam the door! We've talked about slamming the door and there you go, slamming the door again."

Cristina rolled her eyes in response.

"Do you feel sorry for me because I don't have a father, Robbins? Because you don't need to. I have a very disapproving mother that more than compensates for it," Cristina said into her microphone. Arizona's laughter crackled in her headset as the helicopter started to take off.

_Because during the high pressure situations in the work of saving lives, you have to have a person by your side that can bring you back to the moment._

Cristina looked over the horizon as the sun started to dip into the harbor, "So the call is a pick up and drop, right?"

"Yeah," Arizona moved the stick smoothly as they banked to the left, "but it's a 10-46 from Karev's unit."

A puff of air rippled through the microphone system from Cristina that nearly had Arizona laughing again.

"Alex would think that a stubbed toe would be an emergency transfer."

Arizona saw the flashing lights below as they approached the first responders on scene, "I thought Karev was who you rode with when you were pounding the asphalt?"

"He is."

Arizona waited for more, but there wasn't anything. Cristina was very good at saying little when she wanted to. She required a lot of prompting. "Aaaaand?"

"And what?"

"And you're just going to dog on him?"

Cristina turned her head to Arizona, "Are you jealous, Lemondrop?"

Arizona laughed again as she circled, looking for the best landing position and found it in an empty parking lot. "No, I'm not jealous."

* * *

"I'm not jealous! Stop it, Sloan." Callie tried to hit him, but he pulled away before she could connect.

"I'm just saying that you're gushing over these kids like those tweens do with the clumsy girl and the Sparkles Van Cullen vampire." He ate the last bite of his stale doughnut and brushed his hands of powdered sugar.

Callie turned up her nose at him. "This trail is the one Captain Bailey was talking about." She blew on the paper in front of her.

"This chick loved our vic, Sonya Staponski. She couldn't let it go and years later went after Mr. Nash and beat the shit out of him with a softball bat. Case closed." He rubbed his nails on the front of his uniform.

"Closed with shoddy police work. She has an alibi. She was on vacation with her current girlfriend in Vancouver at the time of the murder. It checks out." Torres pointed to the photocopies of the receipts in front of her.

"No one vacations in Vancouver."

"Mark!" she snapped her fingers, "Focus on actual leads and not fairy tales. We're not going to drag her through another drop-in."

Hitching up his leg, Mark sat down on the edge of Callie's desk, "There's something that keeps bothering me about the story. It's too much of a coincidence that the murder weapon was a softball bat."

"You just watched too much of the evil lesbian movie twists to see that the girlfriend didn't do it."

Mark leaned forward and chuffed Callie under her chin, "And you are too into the sad love story to follow up on the gut feeling that they know something that will send us to our next lead."

"The girlfriend didn't even play softball. Only Mr. Nash's victim did." Callie shook her head. You need to let it go or we're never going to solve this case.

"Torres, I've been a detective much longer than you have. You need to trust my instinct on this one. It is a linear path. Follow along with me," he picked up a black marker and started writing a timeline on a large easel pad. "Nash hits Staponski with his car while drunk driving. Eye witness IDs him and the car. At trial, he's convicted of second degree manslaughter and fleeing the scene," Sloan drew a stick figure behind bars at this point on the timeline. "Then, he gets out of jail and doesn't clean up his act. Staponski's girlfriend finds out that he's not in jail anymore and still a threat to society, and beats him to death with her dead lover's softball bat ten years after her death."

Callie sighed. "Is this how you were closing cases before? By imagination without proof? You work like those cops on television."

* * *

"So you're not on TV for your other career?" Cristina chuckled to herself lightly as she propped her feet on the seam of the window.

"You, feet down," Arizona ordered, "No, I'm mostly just a voice that crackles while they look at the traffic map or in flight video." The sun peeked out from the horizon, signaling the end of the shift as they headed south toward the station. A glare caught the gap between Arizona's eye line and her sunglasses and she flinched. Being in Seattle, she had become used to the damp weather, but once in a while when the sun caught her right, it made her think of the sandbox. The land of sun, sand, and pain all mixed together.

"Robbins?"

Moving her gaze quickly to Yang, she asked, "What?"

Cristina shook her head, "Nothing. You just went somewhere and since you're flying me around the city, I wanted you back here in the now."

"I'm here," Arizona replied over her mic. "Just a little sun in my eyes." With that, she adjusted their course, banking the chopper. Cristina braced herself against the door by reflex.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But I just wanted you to know..." Cristina paused briefly, then finished, "Well, that I know."

"You know," Robbins glanced her way skeptically.

"You're a vet. You're still flying the same kind of bird you did over there. You can't just forget."

"I mean this is the nicest possible way, but there is no way that you know anything about it." Arizona cleared her throat.

Turning her head and looking out the window, Yang nodded, "Okay sure, you're right. I know nothing about trauma, or more specifically PTSD," she held up her hand quickly, "I'm not saying you have PTSD, but war is not kittens and all the fluffy things you like to pretend you always are, Captain."

Arizona cleared her throat, "War stories are just not open for the banter in the Helo." Her voice wavered over the mic.

Cristina chose to push on, "Hell, I'm down with the darker side of life, Robbins. You can't scare me off with Marine gruff."

"Just because you put on a sarcastic front and pretend not to care what other people think, it doesn't mean that you are down with the darker side of life. I know that you've seen things on the calls we take, and you're in the business of saving lives, which you don't always succeed at, but believe me when I tell you - war is a completely different animal." They had reached the station and Arizona was maneuvering the aircraft to land on the roof.

"I agree." Cristina tugged her helmet off and turned toward Arizona as she touched down, "It's about trying to find sense in senseless things. I know that. I lived it younger than anyone should, and it's what war means to me." She pushed the straps off her sides and continued, "I wasn't there. I won't pretend to get it; no one can get exactly where someone else is, but I'll listen. Sometimes that's all people need."

Arizona shook her head as she flipped a few switches in her post-flight routine. "I didn't mean to be dismissive, Yang. How young were you when you were forced to find sense in senseless things?"

"Ah, ah," Cristina shook her finger at Arizona. "Quid pro quo!" she yelled over the slowing rotors.

Robbins leaned back in the pilot's chair, "It was the sun flare. It just triggered some sense memories."

"Like?"

Rolling her shoulders back, Arizona dug in, "Nothing specific. I don't usually have many; I mean, I moved to a very different climate."

Yang nodded, "So that's why you moved from Georgia - to get away from the memories." She opened her arms widely, "Then why basically be in the same job?"

Arizona smiled, wide and dimpled. "Simple. Because I love it." She climbed down from her rig. "You'll never get me out of the skies."

"I'll take that as a truth," she smirked, "You are the herpes of the sky, Robbins... just when they think you're gone, you pop back up."

Her smile quickly faded, "You have a lot to learn on how to woo a girl, Yang."

"Oh, Lemondrop, I've upset you!"

Arizona knocked Cristina back with a hard push to her shoulder. "Thanks, partner. Why don't you tell me about the senselessness that destined you to take this job? Don't tell me you're not the same way."

"My father and I were in a hit and run by a drunk driver and the EMS unit didn't get there in time." The matter of fact tone struck Arizona since she recognized it as how she would speak about her brother's death or a fellow Marine. She grabbed the laptop to finish the shift reports inside and jogged to catch up to Cristina.

"So is that what drove you to EMS?"

"Eh," Yang shrugged, "it was the second choice career. Both were in the medical field though. I want to save lives."

"What was the first choice?"

Yang pulled the door open to the stairwell, "A surgeon."

* * *

"Here," Sloan handed a paper to Callie. "Lab report's in on the shoeprints."

Torres perused the page.

_** Agency Case # : **__ 10-058336  
__** Subject(s): **__  
Suspect: UNKNOWN  
Victim: NASH, TED  
__** Lab Record #:**__10-058336 #3  
__** Offense:**__Homicide  
__** Examiner: **__Lexie Grey  
__** Evidence Received: **__  
Items submitted by GREY, LEXIE  
Item # 1938-01: shoeprints from front foyer  
Item # 1938-02: shoeprint elimination standards, YANG, CRISTINA  
Item #1938-03: photographs of shoes from YANG, CRISTINA  
Item # 1938-04: shoeprint elimination standards, KAREV, ALEX  
Item # 1938-05: photographs of shoes from KAREV, ALEX  
__** Recovery Information: **__  
Tag #100011938 was collected by GREY, LEXIE at 502 SE 23rd Street, Unit G_

_** Results: **_

_The apparently bloody shoeprints (Item 1938-01) from the foyer of 502 SE 23rdStreet, Unit G, match the EMS elimination shoeprints (Item1938-02) from YANG, CRISTINA in both class and individual characteristics. _

_The EMS elimination shoeprints (Item 1938-04) from KAREV, ALEX contain the same class characteristics, but are excluded as a possible source._

_Digital photographs were taken of the boots from YANG, CRISTINA (Item 1938-03). Apparent blood was observed on the outsoles of both shoes, which was deposited in a contact manner. Additionally, several small airborne drops, ranging in size from approximately 1 millimeter to 3 millimeters in size, were observed on the toe, instep, and heel of the left work boot._

_Digital photographs were taken of the boots from KAREV, ALEX (Item 1938-05). _

_No apparent blood was observed on these boots. Nothing of apparent evidentiary value was observed.  
_

Callie skipped the last paragraphs of methodology and disclaimers. She didn't care about all the science mumbo-jumbo, just the fact that they were still without leads in their case, despite Sloan's theories.

Sloan watched as his partner threw the report on her desk. He leaned forward as she rubbed her face roughly with her hands, "Come on, Torres. It gives us information."

"It gives us no information, Mark! None!" She pushed her chair back roughly and it elicited a rough groan against the tile, making an interesting contrast to Callie's groan of annoyance, "It's like we have some phantom killer in these cases."

She was headed toward the coffee when Mark held up a hand, "Whoa there, Ladycop, why keep pumping the Joe in when the shift it almost over?" A large wolf-like grin overtook his face, "Unless there is more of that hot emergency service action going on tonight."

Callie rolled her eyes at him exaggeratedly while she poured herself a cup.

His hands rubbed up and down his chest languidly, "I'm, right aren't I?"

"I often wonder how you can function in the real world with such an active imagination, Sloan." She took a burning gulp of the coffee, trying to ignore his childishness.

"Oh, I'm right! Where are you going this time? More bang bang - shoot 'em up? Do you want to borrow the car and light it up? Take her on a joy ride?" With that, he made an annoying siren sound.

Callie glared at him. "Is this how you treat all your dates? Have you ever had more than one with the same woman?"

Mark gave her a quizzical look. "Why would I ever need more than one?"

Arching an eyebrow, Torres opened her palm towards him, "I will take the car though." Her fingers curled towards her and then back at him until he stood from the desk and meandered towards her.

Mark started to pull the keys off his belt loop, "No hurting Amelia, though." He pulled the keys towards him for a moment and then sighed deeply before handing them over to Callie.

"You've named the car?"

Mark scrunched his eyebrows together, "Of course I named the car. I thought you'd like it." He leaned toward the coffee station, flipping a Seattle PD cup into his hand and twirling it around his fingers. "You know, remind you of your flygirl, since it's after Earhart, the other butch flygirl."

"As if there could only be two." Callie waved her hands at him.

"Do you want the car or not?" He stood up straight and crossed his arms.

"Yes, Dad, I want the car. Thank you for the keys."

"Okay, you got the car. Now tell me what you're going to do."

"We're planning on playing in traffic."

Mark took a tentative sip of his coffee and set it down to add creamer, "Fine, don't tell me."

* * *

Arizona placed her sunglasses on the top shelf in her locker, ducked her head, lifted her dog tags from around her neck, and hung them on the interior hook. She then sat down and started unlacing her boots. Pulling them off one by one, she tossed them into the bottom of her locker with a loud clang and then began stripping her flight suit down to her waist, revealing underneath a tight fitting tank top that clung to her.

"I don't think that I could ever be a surgeon," she stated matter-of-factly to Cristina. "And quite frankly, I'm glad you didn't. You'd have turned out all bull-headed and prickly."

"Because being a medic has made me what?" Yang's eyebrows furrowed together as she sat roughly down on a bench.

Arizona countered with a soft smile, "Hard-nosed and efficient."

"And this is different from your previous description how, Robbins?" Cristina leaned back, settling her hands behind her as she waited for the answer.

"The latter is like a Marine, which to me, is cozy and warm... like home."

With a loud snort, Cristina pushed herself forward to work on her own bootlaces. "You are strange."

Arizona shrugged and kicked off her flight suit, then turned and headed for the showers. As she was walking away, she tugged her tank top over her head and yelled back to Yang. "I've been called worse!"

Shaking her head back and forth Cristina hunched over her boot, "Very, very strange."

* * *

Arizona leaned against the side of the station and checked her watch for what she felt was like the fiftieth time, but she knew it was just her type-A personality. Running a hand through her hair she fluffed it again and repositioned herself against the wall trying to strike a pose that seemed aloof and not at all anxious. She succeeded for all of ten seconds before checking her watch again and running her hands down her black jeans. Hooking her thumb in her belt loop she let out a long breath and then crossed her arms. She was calm.

Sirens blared in the distance, not fire, but maybe EMS or police. It was a sound she was so accustomed to, staying at the station, that she hardly noticed them anymore. She checked her watch again.

The sirens got louder and Arizona looked in their direction. A navy blue Dodge Charger with silver stripe was barreling down the road, hidden lights in the grill flashing. The police car turned in the parking lot in front of her and skidded on the gravel before coming to a stop and turning the sirens off.

"I know, I'm late," Callie said through her open window. "But I promise you that I can get you there on time."

Arizona ran around the car, got into the passenger's side, and Callie was driving off before Arizona got a chance to buckle herself in.

"By the way, you've got your work cut out for you. Traffic is already horrible." She reached down to the radio console in the center of the car and switched the siren back on.

Arizona leaned over the hardware between them and planted a kiss on Callie's cheek, "A girl could get used to this kind of pomp and circumstance." She was rewarded with a smile that made her stomach do a quick cartwheel.

"I could get used to that, too." Arizona leaned toward Callie, her voice quieting, and even with the siren blaring, it caused her to focus on the words that followed, "I missed you."

Callie's brain was screaming internally. She was trying with all her might to focus on the road, the traffic that wasn't moving out of her way and where her opportunities to pass were, and the high rate of travel. Yet, part of her brain was in the passenger seat, decidedly not interested in driving.

"You're going to make me crash this car if you keep saying things like that," Callie glanced at her passenger quickly and smiled, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. "And, may I say: Damn, those jeans are hot."

Arizona reached up and touched Callie's chin, turning her head back to the road.

"Well I'm glad that you like them, as you might have to help me peel them off later." Arizona paused, horrified with what had come out, "Wait, I didn't mean, well... they're just-" she cut herself off and pointed to the next exit, "that's us."

Callie struggled through the lanes of traffic to get to the off ramp. She never understood how civilians could ignore a car with flashing lights and a blaring siren. "Do not think that I am not going to make you revisit your comment about helping you with your jeans."

Looking out of the passenger window, Arizona's voice lilted sing-song like through the car, "Don't know what you're talking about."

Laughing, Callie pulled into the television station parking garage, found a spot, and put the car in park. The siren stopped immediately and she flipped a switch that turned off the lights. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, she mumbled, "Thanks, Ameliea," before getting out of the cruiser.

Arizona stepped out of the car and looked over the top of it at Callie. "What was that?"

She shook her head. "Sloan named that car."

"You _thanked_ the car," Arizona said, waving a finger at her.

"I'm weird, okay?" Callie rounded the front of the vehicle and walked with Arizona to the doors inside.

"Hope you like stairs, Torres. This place doesn't have an elevator."

Callie looked at the staircase twisting up the inside of the building. "I don't remember you talking about exercise being involved in this excursion."

Backpedaling, Arizona smiled widely at her as she slipped on a pair of mirrored aviators, "I've never known you to be afraid of breaking a sweat." Her feet clanged against the first metal step, "I'll race you to the top."

Callie rolled her shoulders back, "I mean, I never met a staircase I didn't like." She rushed to Arizona's side hoping to get a bit of an edge in the footrace, if she could merely hip check her to the wall first.

Callie grabbed the handrail and pulled herself up as she ran, taking the stairs two at a time. She edged out Arizona for the time being, but wasn't sure how her stamina would be, simply because she had no idea how many floors it would take to get them to the roof. The building didn't seem too tall from the outside.

Behind her, Arizona puffed breathlessly, "I think you're going to win. But that's mostly because of the view from back here."

Callie slowed down and tossed a look over her shoulder, just in time to see Arizona sprint around her side. "I wasn't lying about the view, Calliope, but Marines never lose." Finding renewed energy, Callie dug deep to get back to her old pace, but saw Arizona widening the gap and grumbled to herself. She was not used to losing a challenge either.

"You're a cheat, Robbins!"

"It's called strategy, Torres," came a bellow back at her as she heard a door creak open and knew that she had lost, this time.

Callie took the last few steps and followed Arizona out of the door, catching it right before it closed. When she reached the roof she saw the helipad, with a helicopter sitting on it, but she didn't see Arizona anywhere.

She stood there, breathing heavily and looking around. Stepping forward, she allowed the door to the stairwell close behind her, and saw Arizona was standing behind it. "Cheat."

Arizona grabbed the front of Callie's shirt and pulled her roughly toward her, "Loser," she whispered, before going in for a kiss. It was brief, as both of them were still winded from the sprint up the stairs, but it was still full of passion. She pulled away and smiled, dimples melting every bit of composure that Callie had maintained up to that point.

Cocking her head to the side, Arizona's face sobered, "How about I take you for a ride now?" She flicked her wrist up, "Seeing that we have about ten minutes before I need to be on air, and in it, to be on it."

"What?" Callie pointed her finger up and down Arizona's frame, "You're not going to get all suited up?"

Her eyebrows popped up above her glasses for a moment, "No, this is the side job. I get dress how I want as long as it's not blues or greens. Those are reserved for the anchors."

"But," Callie pouted, "I wanted to see the flight suit."

Arizona stutter-stepped towards the helo, "And cover up all this?" She motioned down her body with the dark military style jacket, white v-neck shirt, and those black jeans. "Highly unlikely."

Callie nodded, "Point taken."

Within minutes, they were in the sky and working on making a wide loop of the city. Arizona gave Callie a headset and showed her how to key the mic so that they could talk to each other.

"This gives a whole new perspective to the city," Callie said. "Can we fly over the stadium when you're done? And the Space Needle?"

"Of course," Arizona nodded. "I'd love to show you." She held up her finger and switched a few toggles.

"Thank you, Joyce. It's slow going out there this morning. On 5 southbound at Northgate Way there is a collision partially blocking the HOV lane which is not going to help you get to work on time this morning. We've also got a backup near the on-ramp of 5 southbound from West Seattle Freeway due to a disabled vehicle blocking the left lane, and on SR 18 westbound at West Valley Highway, the right lane is closed due to construction. Alternate routes are highly suggested. Other than that, it's the usual slow going morning traffic. This is Sydney Sullivan in the King Five News helicopter, back to you Brad!"

Callie squinted, looking at the various molded boxes and instruments around the cabin, "So which one of those was the camera?"

"Actually," Arizona tilted the helicopter, turning towards the requested sightseeing areas and pointed with her left hand, "there are two. One outside here for aerial shots of the traffic, or if the pilot is doing a news shot of a specific area and then," switching hands on the stick Arizona tapped a metal box above her, "this is the one that they can use if they want to show the pilot."

"So you don't know if you were actually on the news today?"

Shrugging, Arizona answered her, "Maybe today, since there wasn't a large accident, but it's up to the producers on the ground."

Callie shook her head. "I'd hate not knowing."

"What do I care? It's not like I ever watch myself on the news anyway." Arizona banked the helicopter quickly to the right and smiled as her passenger grabbed at the side of the cabin.

"You should warn a girl before you do that," she said over the headset as her knuckles turned white.

"You don't like surprises?" Arizona's dimples flashed briefly.

Callie felt her stomach do a quick flip flop and she was certain it had nothing to do with the G forces in the cabin. Clearing her throat, Callie looked down at the streets buzzing by, "No, no, I like my surprises. Just on the ground, when I feel a bit more in control."

A light laugh filled the cockpit, "Are you scared of flying?"

"No, I just I'm not driving the vehicle." Callie's eyes settled back on Arizona and felt a quick dip that made her fumble for something to hold onto, "See, so you can keep doing that pitchy-weavy-dippy stuff."

"I find it hard to believe that this is any worse than when Sloan drives on a code one." Arizona took the helicopter lower, for a better view.

"It's not. I don't really like that, either."

Arizona nodded, "I understand. I absolutely hate flying if I'm not the one doing it. Actually, that might not be worded strongly enough."

Callie smiled widely, "You're scared of flying?" She chuckled warmly, "That might be the cutest thing I know about you."

"Oh, really?" Arizona nodded to their right as they approached the Space Needle, "What was the cutest thing before that you knew about me?"

Callie pulled off her sunglasses so Arizona could see her eyes when she responded, "It's embarrassing."

"You have to tell me! Please?"

Callie took a deep breath and said, "It's a combination of things. You remember that time you fell asleep on my couch? Well, you must have had this really vivid dream, and I could tell that it was somewhat bad, because you were talking in your sleep. I think it had something to do with your military service. So, the fear of flying thing wrapped up with all of that stuff... well, it's adorable to me. I... I have warm fuzzy feelings when I think about you."

Not able to focus on the end of the rambling answer, Arizona focused instead on the talking in her sleep. She cleared her throat and asked roughly, "What did I say?"

Callie's eyebrows furrowed, "It was gibberish. You were talking about frogmen in the sand and getting them back to the water so they could go home."

Arizona nodded a couple of times and shook her head, "Yeah, you're right, it was gibberish." She smiled tightly and laughed, "I'm just glad it wasn't something about you."

"Arizona?" asked Callie concerned, "You're lying to me."

Banking the helicopter to the left, heading south towards the Mariners stadium, Arizona took a deep breath, "How about you let me right now and we talk about something happier."

"Yeah," Callie nodded, concern still in her voice. She reached over and placed her hand on Arizona's thigh. "Whatever you want."

"I want to stay in the air all day. Isn't it great?"

"Does that mean you're off today?" Callie squeezed her knee lightly.

Nodding, Arizona replied, "It's my Friday."

"Well, look at that, it's Friday for me too." Callie noticed Arizona look at her over her mirrored sunglasses and her smile was a true one this time.

"See, I can help bring the happy."

Arizona cut in quickly, "We should get back and land this bird."

Her brows knitted deeply as Callie looked over the beautiful view of the city and the tiny ballpark hovering into view, "But I thought I had more of the tour of Seattle left - we haven't-"

"Callie," Arizona's voice cut through the headset, "If I have you all day, I want to have you all day long."

Callie's throat went dry and her mouth popped open for a moment before shutting again. She looked at the pilot, full of concentration as she moved the stick forward, swiftly building up speed, the buildings below zipping by, "Oh."

"You better get used to that word." Arizona said.

* * *

Arizona couldn't physically wait to get inside. The ride to her apartment was thrilling. Callie drove the police car with lights and siren, literally parting traffic for the sole purpose of taking her to bed and spending the rest of the day there with her.

When they pulled into her apartment complex, Arizona sprinted ahead of Callie. This time not in a competitive race, but to frantically pick up her apartment before Callie made it inside. She had to store some of her equipment in the trunk of the car, like her handgun and bullet proof vest, and locked them up in the vehicle.

When Callie entered, the apartment was dark, but candlelit. Arizona had installed blackout curtains on every window, but had a few burning candles that led Callie directly toward her bedroom. She entered and locked the door, then followed the flickering lights to the back room. As she did, her heart started hammering in her chest. Tonight was the night, except for the fact that it was morning.

Her foot hit something soft on the floor and she bent down, picking up Arizona's discarded jacket, and her breath hitched for a moment before she stepped closer to the slightly ajar door. Callie's hand shakily reached out to push it farther open, and she took in the flickering candlelight, which made the walls of the room feel alive. Stepping further into the room, she let her eyes linger on pieces of Arizona's bedroom, pictures in uniform, books scattered around a nightstand, a folded American flag above the headboard, and finally ending on the woman coming towards her slowly, like she was stalking prey.

"You seem to have lost this." Callie offered the jacket to her, but Arizona batted it away and pulled her hair out from her ponytail.

As blonde waves drifted down to her shoulders, she said, "You can't lose what you don't need, Calliope."

"Right," she replied, laughing nervously. "That's why it was on the floor in the first place. You know, I thought you'd be more the type to hang everything up. You know, a place for everything and everything in its place."

Arizona reached up and put her fingers on Callie's lips. "Detective," she said, in a soft, low tone, "please, stop talking."

Opening her lips slightly, Callie drew Arizona's forefinger into her mouth, watching for a reaction from the other woman. Arizona's eyes fluttered closed for a moment before lazily opening and focusing her line of sight back on Callie's mouth. Once Callie heard the soft hum coming from Arizona, she released the finger and moved swiftly, running one hand down Arizona's side as her other hand swept up through silken strands of hair and pulled her closer.

Arizona moved closer into Callie's arms, and cupped her face within her hands. Her thumb brushed across her lips and she whispered, "You're beautiful," before leaning in and kissing her passionately.

Callie took a step forward, and Arizona jumped into her arms, her legs hooking around Callie's hips, and as she stood there, Callie held her up. Arizona kissed her again, briefly this time, before pulling away. Throwing her head back she laughed, and Callie took three steps to the bed and roughly dropped Arizona on it.

Using her feet to pull on Callie's legs, Arizona grinned, "Don't think you're just dropping me off so easily."

Callie shrugged out of her leather jacket and leaned forward, hovering over Arizona before dropping a kiss on her forehead, then the tip of her nose, before claiming her lips again. Feeling the tugging behind her knees, Callie lost her balance and fell on top of Arizona who giggled again. "Now you're trapped."

"Arizona?"

"Yes?" Callie moved in again for a hard kiss and she pulled away with a smug grin, "Shut up." Biting her lip, Arizona nodded and pulled Callie down towards her again.

_Some days you just get it right. Things fall into place; the little ones don't bother you, and the big ones make you smile._

The two women rolled on the bed, with Arizona stopping on top and slowly raising her tank top, revealing creamy white skin. Callie's hand followed the line of her abs upwards; her hand seemingly chasing the clothing off of Arizona's body.

_At the end of the day, you have the person who can bring you back to who you are; the person who makes you realize why you do what you do every day. Because that person..._

Callie's hands slid back down, gripping Arizona's hips.

_That is the person you hold onto._

"I vaguely remember something about these jeans," Callie said as her fingers gripped Arizona's waist.

"You're right," looking down Arizona responded, "I am going to need your help."


	6. Episode Six: Afterglow

**Authors' Note:** Again thank you for comments. We welcome them by PM or online and the slew of favorites and alerts have been so pleasing to see. Please again remember if you haven't maybe look at signing up for update alert since we're so sporadic with our update timeline.

**Disclaimer:** We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on Grey's Anatomy which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably_ Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Castle, Law and Order_ and _CSI_. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained.

**Ratings:** Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time or all in this episode.

**Feedback:** Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.

**Story Information**: This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters' lives, but not who they are as a person. Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, and Miranda Bailey work for the Seattle Police Department. Captain Arizona Robbins and Cristina Yang are paramedics. Lexie Grey is a crime scene technician. Crime, injuries, and death occur in their city as Callie and Arizona get to know one another on a more personal level.

* * *

**Midnight Oil: Special Assignment - Episode Six: Afterglow**

Callie woke in a dark room. The only light came from the red numbers of a digital clock; the candles had burnt out of their own accord long before they had even gotten around to sleeping.

_Every time you've finally gotten something right, there's always that perfect moment where you can sit back and reflect, and feel great about yourself, your life, and the direction it's going in. Often times we miss that moment. Which is why it's even more special when we notice it._

She was afraid to move. Arizona was soundly asleep, on top of her left arm. Callie wiggled her fingers, surprised that the limb wasn't completely asleep. Shifting slightly, she rolled to get a better view of her sleeping partner. She watched the rise and fall of her body in the dim red light of the clock as she breathed in and out.

The thin sheet covered them partially in places, and not at all in others, as it tangled around limbs and fell halfway to the floor. Callie smiled. The night could not have been more perfect.

Arizona's nose crinkled and she raised her hand to her face to scratch lightly at an apparent phantom piece of hair. She took a deep breath and curled towards the warm part of the bed, but when she felt naked skin, her left eye opened slowly to see a woman grinning down at her. Her right eye opened and adjusted to the lack of light in the room. As Callie came into focus, she let out a breath of relief.

"Yay, it's Callie." Leaning forward, she tried to sneak a quick kiss, but Callie pulled back.

_But it always is gone in an instant._

"Were you expecting someone else?"

Arizona shook her head vigorously, "No, no, I didn't mean it like that." Running her arm slowly down Callie's side, she tugging her hip to get her closer. "I mean - you stayed!" her eyes shot up as she thought for a moment, "All night, and morning, too."

Suddenly paranoid, Callie pulled her arm from under Arizona as she shifted to sit up. "You're right. Why did I stay all night? I shouldn't have stayed all night. That makes me weird and clingy. But I just woke up, so I couldn't have left. Go back to sleep," she babbled.

Callie tightened the sheet around her chest, while at the same time, Arizona let it fall. "What? No." Her confusion was unmistakable. "Callie," she said quietly, reaching out to her arm to calm her nerves. "I'm really happy that you stayed."

"You are?" Callie looked coyly at Arizona.

"Yes, very much." Arizona scooted closer and smiled widely, "Very much."

Her head dipped down as she caught Callie's lips for a slow kiss and she pulled away giggling, "I'm so sorry, I didn't even ask about morning breath." She cupped her hand in front of her mouth and huffed a couple times in her hand.

"Arizona," Callie pulled her hand away from her face and smiled back at her, "it was okay," her eyes squinted in thought, "Actually, more than okay."

A grin blossomed across Arizona's face, "Well, yay."

_Living in perfection though, isn't needed for more than a moment, because the day to day is better._

_

* * *

_

Arizona squeezed Callie's arm and leaned into her as they walked out into the cool, late evening air. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Our schedules really suck, you know? I would love to actually get a good breakfast at this time of day." Callie turned the corner toward the police car and stopped dead in her tracks.

"Oh no."

Arizona was jerked to a stop with Callie. "Oh no, what?"

"Oh no," Callie repeated. Her hand instinctively went to her hip, forgetting that she had locked her firearm in the trunk of the squad car.

Arizona followed Callie's sight line and whispered out slowly, "Oh. No."

She watched Callie double time it to the cruiser and surveyed the scene herself. The driver's side window was broken, with glass on the road and gnarly pieces still encased in the window frame. Arizona scanned the sidewalks and nearby alley. The street was silent, so she walked closer, peeking into the car.

"What are you doing?" Callie approached her with her sidearm pulled, "Get back inside."

Arizona's brow furrowed, "Did you just order me into my house?"

Fully into cop mode, Callie quickly ran through the realities, "We don't know if the vandal is still here, what has been taken, or planted. So go inside your apartment and wait for me to clear the scene."

"The scene is clear, Callie," Arizona crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, "Trust me, I know city warfare. We're fine."

"Then you should know that if there is a bomb planted in this car, it could be a used as a secondary device that will blow once I have backup here, so that it causes maximum damage." Callie looked at the radio in her car and decided that she didn't want to move it.

"Don't you think you're over-reacting?" Arizona asked. "Are you telling me you're going to call the bomb squad?"

Callie sighed. "I don't know!" She reached for her phone. "We don't have a protocol for this!"

Arizona stared at her calmly. "Yes you do, Detective Torres. Think."

Reaching for her cell phone, Callie closed her eyes. She knew what she had to do and dreaded the call more than the one she would have made to the tactical team. She took a deep breath, went to her recently called list, and dialed her partner.

"Sloan," she heard on the other end.

* * *

Lexie twirled her fiberglass brush over the interior smooth surfaces of the car, looking for any latent fingerprints. She felt kind of guilty doing so, as this was one of the newest patrol cars and she was making it probably one of the dirtiest in the whole fleet.

She'd already swabbed some things for DNA, but doubted whoever vandalized the car was likely to have been inside.

The exterior only had a few prints, and they were in places likely to be the normal drivers and passengers. She doubted she was going to get anything useful and thought the whole process was a waste of her time. Over the radio, she was hearing about more interesting sounding scenes that she could be processing.

She looked up and could see Detective Sloan sipping a hot cup of coffee, and decided it wasn't a total loss because she was sure that he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. And yet, there she was, in her stupid ugly uniform, covered in black fingerprint powder, without a chance in the world.

Mark leaned toward Arizona and grinned widely at her, "I notice that we are at your apartment, Rocketeer, and that my partner is wearing the same clothes she left the station in yesterday."

"Ugh," Arizona rolled her eyes in disgust, "You are immature."

Puffing his chest out, Mark laughed, "That is all the answer I needed, thank you. I'm going to go and yell at my partner now." He took a long gulp from his coffee as he felt a hand tug back on his arm forcefully.

"No, no yelling. No chiding. You will be supportive because you are her partner and this all sucks." She caught the twinkle in his eyes before she released a slight whine, "I was going to have pancakes."

Leaning towards her, Mark smirked, "All that syrup didn't fill you up last night?" He couldn't stop chuckling until he was punched squarely in the shoulder by the petite Marine. "Ow, what have you got hidden in that fist, Robbins?"

She raised her eyebrows at him, "No jokes, Mark. Supportive and understanding partner."

He waved at her as he ventured toward Callie. "Torres," he grunted at her, "I give you Amelia and you let this happen?"

"This wasn't my fault, Mark." She shook her head. "I don't know how this shit happens to me."

"You're a shit magnet, Torres."

Callie could tell that his tone was jovial, but it didn't help her feel any better about it. She had moved on to anger from disbelief. She started ranting at him in Spanish.

"Hey!" Mark grabbed her arms, "Stop speaking Spanish. I don't speak Spanish! I hate it when you do this!"

Callie took a deep breath. "Okay, listen," she said more slowly in English, "there's something I have to tell you."

"What? You finally boinked the pilot? I already know that."

"Mark!" He could see her anger boiling up and quit his usual humor.

"Okay, what?"

"The two unsolved cases we're working?"

"What about them?" he asked.

"The files were stolen from the front seat. It's the only thing missing. All my gear in the trunk was fine."

Mark's lower lip jutted out in thought, "Huh, that's an interesting development." He leaned to his right, catching a glimpse of Lexie crouching near the car, and felt a hand smack his chest.

"Focus Sloan. I need you to focus." Callie pointed to her eyes and then tapped on her forehead.

He snorted and looked back at the squad car, "I was focusing, uh, was it both files taken?"

"That's what I said Mark, nothing else is missing. I've done the inventory, even the cash in the front bench, still there."

The radio in the car crackled and Lexie popped up quickly to her full height as she took in the chatter. They were calling for CSU to respond to a murder scene. Her heart beat in double time and she turned to the two detectives, "Well, I'm done here, so I'm going to go to the scene with the dead body."

She grinned widely as she snapped off her gloves before taking in Detective Torres' face, "Not that I didn't feel useful here at this also important scene, which I was very happy to have been called to, to be at... Detective."

Callie nodded. She understood how rote this processing must have been for the eager crime scene tech, "I appreciate it Lexie, and you can call me Torres."

"Thanks, Torres," with that, Lexie packed up her kit of supplies and jogged off scene carrying two small bags of evidence. Callie thought she was almost skipping.

She looked up and rolled her shoulders, sighing heavily. "I should have never gotten out of bed this morning," she said wearily. Arizona slipped her hands over Callie's shoulders.

"You're right. Let's go back to bed," she whispered in Callie's ear.

Nodding in agreement, Callie turned to face her and saw Sloan gesturing in a wait a minute motion as he held his phone to an ear. Callie's face downturned and she did as she was told, holding her breath without realizing it.

A few moments passed before Sloan replied, "We'll be right there."

Callie wasn't especially fond of the plural form he just used and gripped Arizona's hand tightly.

"Okay, let's book it. Shepherd wants us on scene, and we might as well take your crime scene to the next one." Mark trotted away towards his Mustang and called over his shoulder, "We're going in civvies Torres, just bring your shield."

Callie's head fell forward with a groan and she laced her fingers through Arizona's, "I'm so sorry, I know this is supposed to be weekend time today with pancakes and-" she felt a finger shush her as Arizona leaned in for a quick kiss.

"Don't worry. I'll just hang out here in my big bad neighborhood all by myself and wait for you to return." Arizona leaned forward, adjusting the collar of Callie's jacket.

"Mmmhmm," Callie's eyes narrowed as she took in Arizona's poker face, "so what you mean to say is that instead of that, you are going to…?"

"Don't worry about me. I might call Cristina and see what she's up to. Nothing big. We'll be laying low." Arizona dropped her hand and winked. "Call me later."

Torres nodded, "I will."

"Torres! Let's go!" Sloan yelled from the cruiser.

Callie gave Arizona a quick kiss and walked to the car. She opened the door and pulled the sleeve of her coat over her hand, brushing broken glass to the ground before getting in the passenger seat. "Shepherd, huh?"

"Another homicide."

"It's our day off, though. Where is everyone else?" Callie asked as Mark turned on the sirens and pulled away from the parking lot.

"We were requested," Sloan shrugged.

* * *

Callie rolled her eyes as they pulled up beside Emerald City Bar, "Mark, if you drug me away to your bar to try and get me to spill about Arizona..." She stopped complaining when he tugged his shield out from under his leather jacket and opened the door.

"I was serious, Callie. Now step to it and let's get this over with so you can get back to Maverick."

Callie pushed open the door and jogged lightly to catch up to him, "You're never going to knock it off with the nicknames, are you?"

"Not until you spill some of the stories about her helping spin your rotary blades." His wolfish grin spread across his face for a moment until he lead them closer to the dank and ripe smelling alley between Joe's and a bargain bookstore.

Callie stopped dead in her tracks when she made it to the other side of the big green dumpster. The victim in front of them had lost a very large volume of blood, which was starting to separate into serum and a weird looking gelatinous mass of dark red goo. His clothes were also covered in blood and there were several very deep looking cuts to different parts of his body.

"Ouch," Mark said from her side.

Callie looked around the very narrow alleyway. "Doesn't look like there was much of a struggle here."

Just then Lexie stepped out of the back door of the bar, "There wasn't," she replied as she put new batteries in her camera. "There are absolutely no signs of a struggle at all. No shoe prints, no good surfaces for prints, no murder weapon."

Mark rubbed the heel of his hand on his forehead. "So we have nothing to work from, again?" he asked frustrated.

He looked up through his eyelashes and realized his mistake too late as Lexie was stepping back in apology. "Lexie, I'm not upset with you. You're the best damn tech I've worked with lately. You're great."

Derek interrupted the trio smiling smugly, "I know I am." He sipped lightly from his latte and hummed to himself, "So people," he zipped up his morgue jacket and winked at them, "It's a beautiful day, let's solve crimes."

"What do you see, Doc?" Callie asked, trying not to look at the dead body in front of her. She was actually quite pleased that she didn't eat breakfast this morning.

"At least three deep lacerations targeting what appears to be the axillary artery," he pointed to the left underarm of the victim where a large bloodstain saturated his shirt, "the femoral artery," he motion to the groin, "and the brachial artery," this time he pointed to the victim's right bicep. "There might be some other incised or stab wounds, but I'd have to get him back to the lab to confirm."

"Targeting?" Sloan asked, slowly raising his brow. "That's intriguing."

Derek nodded and looked up at Lexie, "Grey, are you finished processing? I don't want to step on your crime scene."

A short laugh and Lexie nodded at him as she put together her kit and collected her samples, "We're good Dr. Shepherd, although you've already stepped on it, but I appreciate the appearance of concern."

A hand hitting his heart, Derek staggered back a couple of steps, "Appearance, Grey?"

Shaking her head, she pushed past the detectives and medical examiner, "Later guys."

Watching the interaction between Lexie and Shepherd was interesting to Callie, but not as much as watching Mark watch them. His hands had started to ball up into fists and then he released them slowly while pushing his chest out and rolling his shoulders back to appear bigger. She was sure she had seen this before in a documentary on the Discovery Channel about the mating behaviors of gorillas.

"So Shepherd, you were saying about targeting?" Callie tried to drag the men back to the actual task at hand, "The amount of blood that we have on the ground. That's due to the targeting of the arteries, right? By someone who knows where they are, not just someone who is taking a stab at it." Even though she wished she could have those last few words back, Callie waited for Derek's answer.

"That's exactly right, Torres." Derek grabbed Sloan's elbow firmly as his eyes followed Lexie Grey's exit. He pulled him to the side and smiled apologetically at Callie. Turning away from her, he hissed at Mark.

"Do not even think about it. You will not pursue my wife's little sister. Lexie Grey is out of bounds."

Mark's eyes widened, "Out of bounds? Derek, since when do you have a say over who I date?"

A blast of a laugh came out of Derek, "Since when do you date? I mean bedding, Mark, and I have a say since you bedded all of my sisters-"

"Now, wait a minute, I never did anything with Amy."

Raising a finger, Derek told him to be silent, "And don't even get me started on Addison. You need to keep yourself out of the women in my life, and Lexie Grey is a woman in my life."

Turning quickly back to Callie, he patted Mark's back, "Great. Glad we agree." He smiled widely, "Now as for suspects, I think we're looking at someone not only with medical knowledge, but perhaps since we're next to Seattle Grace…"

"Are you implying that one of the doctors came over here on break and slashed up this guy?" Callie asked.

"Well, not exactly. But I think you should keep your options open," he said simply. Then his eyes shot over at Mark, "Given the right motive, I wouldn't put it past any of my colleagues."

"Ha, ha," Sloan deadpanned. "Is that the only thing you had to show us on our day off?"

"I called you so you'd be the detective on the case, Sloan. It's in your beat and I thought that looking at the build of the victim," he motioned back to the body, "It's just intriguing isn't it? A man in his mid-thirties. Six foot two inches, with a muscular build, ended up in an alleyway bleeding out. No witnesses. No cry for help." Derek looked up at Mark, "You are welcome for the call."

Callie agreed with Derek. The scene was a bit mystifying and exciting for the cop who liked to think outside of the box, but she had really wanted an open and shut homicide today.

Mark brought his hand up to his chin in thought and for the first time since arriving, actually considered the scene before him. He needed more information.

"Do we have an ID on this guy yet?"

Derek replied, "His wallet was still on him. Name listed as Vincent Wells. He lived a few blocks from here." He pointed vaguely down the alley. "He was found dead right here, no paramedic intervention. Rigor mortis has set in, so I'd put his time of death roughly 10 to 12 hours ago. With his injuries and the amount of blood, I'd say he was killed right here. No way is this a body dump," Derek brushed his hand through his hair and reached for a pair of gloves in his back pocket.

"You two want to help me move this guy to the morgue? I'll get you more answers when I get back there."

* * *

The whirring of the doors sliding open caused Arizona to snap out of her daze and enter the ER hospital bay as she edged towards the nursing station. She was bored, which should be welcome on a day off from work to lay back and relax. Arizona hated it. She had already worked on her motorcycle, run errands, and worked out. After that came the sitting, which led to a lull when she would remember the sandbox.

"Excuse me," she leaned onto the counter and smiled warmly at the young nurse, "Have you seen a medic wandering around here? Kinda surly and blunt." Arizona's eyes darted up for a moment in thought before she flashed another smile at the nurse, "The opposite of me, really."

The cute nurse leaned in towards her and played with her red hair lightly, twirling it around her forefinger. "Well, I did see Yang wandering around here earlier. She was finishing up notes on the desk, but I think she might have headed back to the station."

Arizona's face wrinkled up for a moment, "Aw, really?" She jutted out a hip and looked behind her as her hair started to fall out of her messy ponytail. "Well thanks, Olivia, it's nice seeing you. If Yang wanders by, let her know I'm bored. She'll get it."

Dropping her eyes for a moment, Olivia nodded and then looked back at the pilot, "Will do," she paused and bit the inside of her lip, "Arizona."

Her eyes widened as Arizona realized that she thought she was having a friendly conversation, but Nurse Olivia had taken it in another way. She laughed shortly before coughing, "Actually, it's Robbins."

She watched as the young nurse's face fell before Arizona turned on her heel and slid her phone out of her coat pocket. "Where are you, Cristina?"

* * *

"Yang," she answered the phone. Caller ID said it was Arizona. Usually when she called on her day off, it meant that she was in need of something to do. Which meant her little girlfriend had ditched her.

"After you skipped out of here, I thought I wouldn't here from you until start of shift two days from now. Are you kidding me? Do you need me to kill her? What did she do?"

On the line, she could hear Robbins laughing lightly. "It's nice to know that you have my back, partner. It's nothing like that - she just got called into work unexpectedly."

"On what?" Cristina raised a brow. Work was always a good excuse for all sorts of things in their field.

"Homicide. Sounded pretty big."

Cristina yawned. "So you're calling me because you need something to do?"

"Yes. Please, God, yes." Arizona was standing outside of the hospital in the ambulance bay. "You sound really tired. I bet you're tired, aren't you, Yang? You're on a 24, right?"

Cristina leaned against the locker as she sighed deeply, "Where do you want to go?"

"Really? Is the shift over?" Arizona skipped lightly until she received a couple of strange looks.

She spun her keys around her finger. "Yeah, it can be. I was just pulling a half for Alex on foot. He's here now so I can..." her eyes narrowed, "Robbins where do you want to go?"

* * *

"Are you kidding me?" Yang pointed at the sign for K1 Speed Kart Racing, "They can't even spell cart correctly. I'm saying no to this."

Arizona grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the building. "Noooo! You'll like it, I promise. They go really fast. And I bet you can't beat me!" Arizona knew if she played Yang's competitive streak, she would have to stay and prove her worth.

"Of course I can beat you. Are you kidding? Half of my rotation is on the streets." Yang tugged her hand out of Arizona's reach, "You may be an ace in the sky, Iceman, but I've got you beat on the asphalt." Rolling her shoulders back, she opened the door and waved Robbins in front of her, "Age before beauty."

"I'm not that much older than you," Robbins mumbled under her breath.

A cackle erupted from Cristina, "Oh this is going to be fun." She looked at the tracks twisting around the inside of the building and the small go cart engines purring at the starting line. "I'm so going to kick your ass."

"Are you kidding? These things corner more like motorcycles than giant ambulances," she smirked as she paid at the counter. "I'm going to beat you and every other teenage boy here," Robbins smiled as she picked up a helmet.

Cristina nodded at the cashier as she signed her credit card slip and put her arm through the opening in the bright pink helmet handed to her. "You think you're the only one that owns a motorcycle?" She flipped the helmet off her arm and tugged it onto her head, "Bikes aren't just for the dykes, Captain."

"You own a moped, Cristina," Arizona said, yanking her helmet on.

Cristina plopped into the go cart and strapped in as she looked over at her partner, "Did I hit a nerve, Robbins?"

She floored the gas pedal and yelled back at her, "You're already behind!"

* * *

Mark paced back and forth in front of the white board they had set up by their desks to help visualize the current unsolved murders. He ran his hand along his stubble and hummed deeply before turning back to Callie as she worked on the notes for the murder in the alleyway. "They don't make sense."

"I think the universe is out to get us. I mean, is it too much to ask that we be able to solve a murder? Sure, we can't solve them all. I can learn to live with that. But really, universe! Seriously?" Callie shook her hands at the ceiling.

Mark raised his eyebrows and looked back at white board, "Seriously." His hands clapped together and he laughed, "The reason we can't figure out one is because it's not one murder."

"Mark."

He raised his hands and then brought a finger to his mouth to beg her to stay silent, "No, just hear me out. What if we work them as multiples?"

Burying her hands in her hair, Callie groaned, "There is nothing to indicate that they have anything remotely in common. Remotely, Mark."

"They have a lot in common. They were all killed recently by brutal attacks and have an unknown suspect. And although the MO is different in every single case, we know that they were all alcoholics," Mark pointed out.

"Wait, even the last guy?" Callie had a little glimmer of hope that someday they could solve these murders, then was quickly deflated because not only was Mark withholding information from her, but Seattle might have a serial killer, and it would be her job to catch him. "How did you know that? About Vincent Wells?"

Sloan turned to Callie and smiled, "When you were chatting up the ME, I took at look through our dearly departed's wallet and found an AA chip, so I ran him when we got in and," he trotted over to his desk and turned his computer monitor towards her, "Bamphf! Priors where our vic blew over the legal limit."

"So not only are they all alcoholics, they all also have rap sheets because of it." Callie pondered that for a moment. "Look him up on the Washington Courts website. Was he charged with anything?"

Mark leaned over his keyboard and pecked at the keys slowly. He squinted for a moment before the database pulled up Wells' charges in correlation with one of his DUI tickets. "Well," he pointed at the screen, "it looks like he was charged with assault on the same night of his DUI ticket, roughly two years ago."

Shaking her head, Callie ran her finger along the line, "No, the assault charges were dropped, it looks like, a week after the incident by the vic."

"Did they even lawyer up?" Mark sat down roughly in his chair and leaned back before rolling towards the coffee cart. He snatched the creamer and scooted back to his desk.

"I don't know," Callie said softly as she scanned the page. "Let me look up the victim in our system." She turned to her desk and logged on the department's report management system, pulling up the case in question.

"The victim's name is Darryl Miller," she called over to Sloan as she typed the name into google.

"You're letting the internet do your detective work now, Torres?" he asked skeptically.

Callie smiled, "I'm using resources, Mark, and look at this - Darryl is the sous chef at Seastar Restaurant and Raw Bar."

A long groan came out of Sloan as he patted his belly, "The last time I ate there my date practically had to wheel me out to the car."

"So you were down for the count?"

He raised his eyebrows, "Oh no, I don't give up that easily, Torres. I rallied." He waggled his finger at the webpage, "Does it say how long he's been there? The assault was about two years ago."

"So you said." Lips pursed for a moment, Callie clicked around on various links and went back to her initial search, "No, it doesn't, but I do think that it's worth stopping by the restaurant."

"And eating, right?" Mark leaned forward smiling widely, "You're not going to make me go there and see all that food and not eat, right?"

"Mark."

He pouted, his bottom lip extending like that of a small child told they can't play in the park, "Please."

Rolling her eyes, Callie's grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. "Fine, but only if you're paying," she said as she left.

Mark answered his cell phone as he drove the cruiser to Seastar. Callie was silent, looking out of the window as parts of the city blurred past her, thinking about Arizona, the break-in to the police car overnight, and how quickly things change.

"Sloan," Mark said simply into the receiver.

"It's Derek. Listen, I thought you'd probably want to know this right away."

"You broke my case for me? How thoughtful," Sloan replied.

"Maybe not quite that important, but important enough. I found an injection site on Vincent Wells. On his neck."

"What does that mean for me, Derek?"

"It means that something was injected into this guy. From the toxicology screen, I can tell you it was a really heavy tranquilizer. Probably knocked him right out."

"That would explain why there was no struggle," Mark nodded his head and turned right at a stoplight.

"And why he died right where he did."

Callie ran her finger down the window along the seam as she heard a one-sided conversation that actually sounded like a lead, which was nice, but her head hadn't really been focused on work all day long. It had been focused on the loss of a weekend with Arizona. As the car headed down another side street, they passed by the KING 5 station and she pulled out her phone.

Pressing it to her ear, she hoped that Arizona would accept her apology; what she had hoped would take an hour had turned into an entire shift. The shrill ringing stopped as it flipped to the chipper voice of Arizona's voicemail, "Hey, Arizona, it's me... Callie, I'm sorry about the-" hearing a beep Callie pulled the phone back and smiled as she saw a picture of a helicopter, "and you're calling me so I'll talk to you soon."

"And here I was worried that you were ignoring my phone call." Callie smirked as she leaned back in her seat.

"It was just hard to get to!" Arizona yelled over the racing go karts in the background. "Hang on, lemme get outside."

"What's that noise?" Callie asked.

"Oh, nothing, don't worry about it. How is work?" Arizona asked, stepping outside of the track.

"Terrible. Great. We might have a lead. But horrible." Callie shook her head and embarrassed, smiled to herself. "I just... well, I miss you. I'm sorry I had to leave."

Juggling her helmet to slip onto her arm Arizona glanced back at Cristina racing a seven-year old boy, "Oh, that's sweet, but I understand the world we work in. I'm sure I'll have to do the same thing sometime and you'll just have to be as understanding."

She grinned and whispered into the phone, "And it's not like you left me naked in bed."

_In the day to day, we can always find ourselves caught in a memory or a moment._

"You didn't just say that to me," Callie giggled into the phone.

"I did." Arizona breathed, "In fact, I'd like to meet you there later."

Callie swallowed, paused for a moment, and then said, "Okay, you have to stop talking. I mean, I know I called you, but you have to not say those things because I like those things and I'm supposed to be working. And I wish I wasn't working because you keep saying those things and I really, really, really want those things."

_Or daydreaming about the future things to come, because when we aren't caught up in the afterglow of what was or what is happening right now, we give in to making plans for tomorrow, which can be dangerous in our world of chaos._

Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment and Arizona sighed, "Mark me down as well for wanting those things. Do you have any clue when you might be wrapping up?"

The restaurant came into view and as Sloan pulled the squad car into a parking spot, he nodded to Callie and exited the car, only to lean on it waiting for her to finish her phone call.

"Ugh," Callie pinched the bridge of her nose, "I'm not sure. I promised Mark that we'd grab a bite after we check out some leads." She could hear Arizona's light humming, which she had learned she would do as she tried to think of how to say what she wanted to say, "Out with it."

"I just... thought you'd want to grab a bite with me, seeing that I'm hotter than him."

"Understatement of the year," Callie mumbled into the phone. "Do you like sushi?"

A loud laugh barreled through the phone, "Oh, Calliope, you need to work on your pick-up lines." Silence greeted Arizona and she inhaled, "Oh, you're serious." She paused for a brief moment then said, "Of course, I love it."

"Can I bring some home to you?"

Arizona smiled. "You better. I'll be waiting," lowering the phone, she pressed end.

Callie opened the car door and started walking quickly to the restaurant. "Let's go, Mark!"

_But we don't back down from chaos. We take the step forward into tomorrow and the unknown._

"Finally, Torres, I thought you were reciting poetry or some nonsense." Mark grinned and punched her lightly in the shoulder. "Now, let's get some answers, get some food, and get you home."

_Moments are just pieces that we look at for leads, for breaks, and to keep in our memory. The day to day though, that's what we keep coming back for..._


	7. Episode Seven: The Story So Far

**Midnight Oil: Special Assignment**

By taintedidealist and drnik46

**Disclaimer: **We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on _Grey's Anatomy_which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, _The X-Files_, _Castle_, _Law and Order_ and _CSI_. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained. I trust that this will not have to be repeated every post as this information will always be the same... and I'll likely forget to do so.

**Ratings:**Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. We're not good at rating. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time.

**Feedback:**Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.

**Story Information:** This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters lives, but not who they are as a person.

**Episode Seven: The Story So Far  
**

_The past influences who we are and who we will become, and that's why it matters. Everyone is different, with different experiences, and different emotional and mental faculties. And some people just can't handle what life throws at them. For others, the past makes them excel._

Callie pulled at her uncomfortable bulletproof vest as she leaned against the bar at Joe's. "I know you must have a lot of incidents here where you have to throw people out or call a cab to take them home, so you might not even remember this..." she started, wondering if they were casing leads that would go nowhere once again today.

"People don't go missing from my bar every day, Detective. I remember the investigation around Betsy Miller, but that happened two years ago. Why's this coming up again now?" Joe asked, wiping down the wood bar top.

Mark cleared his throat. "It's connected to the dead guy in your alley."

Joe's eyes widened. "No kidding?"

_Events can always circle back to meet us head on, but it's up to us to figure out the lesson that we are to glean from it._

Shaking her head back and forth, Callie continued, "Was Vincent Wells a regular here?"

"He used to be, then he'd get on the wagon," tossing the towel over his shoulder, Joe sighed, "but when he fell off, he'd always land back in the corner by the darts."

He wiped at his brow for a moment and Torres could see that admitting that he knowingly served an alcoholic was not the proudest piece of information that the bartender felt like sharing.

"So," Mark glanced in the corner and then turned back to them both, "when was the last time you saw him in here?"

_Some learn quickly, some take a few times to learn those lessons, and others take their whole lifetime._

"When he fell off the wagon, he fell hard." Joe stared at the bar without looking at either of the detectives. "He'd been in here pretty regularly recently. I'm not sure I understand the connection though."

Sitting on a stool, Sloan leaned forward on his elbows, "Two years ago Vincent Wells and Darryl Miller got into a fight here at your establishment. Darryl thought Vince was hitting on his woman, Betsy. They were newly married and Darryl had a bit of a jealous streak. You kicked Vincent out of the bar to stop their fighting. Later that night, Betsy left the bar and was never seen again. Miller blamed the whole thing on Wells. Said that he waited outside of the bar for her and kidnapped her. So, when Wells turned up dead in your alley, Miller was the first person we talked to."

Joe's head popped up, "You don't really think Darryl would do something like that, do you?"

Jutting out his chin, Sloan scratched at his cheek, "Well, yeah, frankly it fits. He has motive, opportunity, and-"

"He wouldn't hurt a fly!" Joe laughed nervously, "The guy played bass for a classic rock cover band here. He was going to be a surgeon and save people, not… no, he wouldn't hurt anyone."

Callie looked between her partner and the bartender. She believed that Joe believed he was telling the truth, but with the lead of how the victim was killed, it did not help Darryl Miller's case that he had gone to medical school and still had the knife skills to be a sushi chef. Though when they spoke with Darryl earlier at Seastar, it didn't seem like he was the kind of guy who would have waited two years to kill. If it was crime of passion, as the motive indicated, then why wait so long?

"He was going to be a surgeon. He had the medical knowledge to target main arteries..." Callie trailed off. "He gave up his whole future when Betsy died."

"He wouldn't have done it. Not this long afterward. He hasn't completely moved on with his life, but he's not going to kill anyone but fish." Joe was adamant about Darryl Miller's character.

Mark touched Callie's shoulder and whispered in her ear, "I believe it. Darryl is a big guy. I can't imagine that he'd need a tranquilizer to put the guy down first."

Nodding, Callie patted the bar top a couple times, "Okay, thank you, Joe, if you think of anything, let us know."

"Oh, are you guys still on duty?" Joe hitched a finger behind him, "I thought you were ready for choir practice."

They both shook their heads and Mark slid off the stool, "We're on a six week rotation so we're on days now. We just came on shift." Smacking his lips together Mark sadly said, "We'll just have to belly up to the bar with the rest of the world for the next six."

Turning toward the exit, he pulled it back for more of Seattle's finest.

The door opened right in front of Arizona as she reached for it, and she just barely managed to sidestep and avoid running into Mark Sloan. She laughed uncomfortably, "Oh, sorry, Detective."

Mark raised an eyebrow at her, "Excuse me, ma'am," he replied back in the same formal manner, a little confused.

Behind him, Callie's grin widened across her face. Pleasantly surprised, she blurted, "Arizona!"

Returning the smile, Arizona looked back at her companion and grabbed her hand, pulling her forward. "Hey, you! I want you to meet Reese Carmichael. Reese, this is my..." Arizona paused very briefly before continuing, "friend, Callie Torres."

Callie was stunned into silence, but shook the woman's hand in front of her and nodded when she heard Reese say, "Nice to meet you," in a southern accent. She was short and petite and absolutely gorgeous. And though no one else seemed to notice, Callie had been introduced to her as a friend, with an oh-so-tiny, barely even noticeable, pause. To Callie, that pause was much longer than anyone else in the room could have ever imagined.

"And you," Callie smiled tightly at the woman and then glanced at Arizona who was avoiding eye contact with her.

The svelte woman covered Callie's hand with her other, "It's so good to see that she is making friends here!" She winked for a moment before letting go of her hand and nudging Arizona's elbow, "She had sounded so down on the phone when she first moved, I just knew I had to get out here and make things right."

A light cough and Mark squeezed in between the women, "So, Reese, is it?" He grinned widely as he looked at the three women as if a three-way tennis match was being played, "How long have you-"

"Known Arizona here?" she narrowed one eye and smiled, "Oh my, but if I tell you that, Sir, you may try to deduce my age, and I cannot give out that information to a stranger." Raising her eyebrows she looked at the seemingly mute figure of Arizona.

Sputtering, Arizona moved her hand back and forth, "Detective Mark Sloan, this is Reese. Reese, Mark..." As the two were preoccupied with shaking hands, Arizona's blue eyes pleaded with Callie to be patient.

Callie saw Arizona making eyes at her, but she didn't know what they meant, and quite frankly, she was already irritated enough with her and her muscular, blonde, stupidly hot "friend" to not really care.

Arizona took a deep breath and said, "Reese is in the Marines. We served together for a few years, so when she showed up stateside, we had to spend the day together. We've got a lot to catch up on."

Reese put her arm around Arizona's shoulders. "We sure do."

"So you came to choir practice?" Callie raised an eyebrow as she asked the question.

"I'm still on the same shift, Callie. What did you want me to do, call out of work tonight?"

"C'mon," Reese pulled Arizona toward the bar, "we've got tequila shots waiting for us."

Mark caught Callie's elbow roughly as she started to follow the two blondes. "Torres, let it go."

He tugged her through the door as she snorted and pulled her arm out of his grip, "Can you even believe her?" She hitched her thumb back at the bar and rolled her eyes as she let out a huff of air, "I mean-" she blew out another breath.

Mark's eyes widened as she turned sharply on her heel and headed back towards the door. He broke into a sprint to get to the door first, "No!" His pointer finger jutted out to her face and he leaned in closely, "No, going crazy. You're on duty."

"You'd rather I stew about this for 10 hours while we work?" Callie asked, challenging Mark.

"Absolutely. In fact, let's do our jobs and it'll get your mind off of things." He pulled her into the street. "Stop overreacting."

"I'm not over reacting."

"Sure..."

The two of them walked across the street, Sloan with his customary swagger, and Callie sulking behind.

* * *

Cristina walked up the stone stairs and through the vestibule before entering into the main church sanctuary. She walked through it and down a small hall, to a downstairs meeting room. Slipping quietly inside, she took a seat near the back and crossed her arms over her chest. In the front of the room, a man stood near a podium and said, "My name is Eric and I have no power over alcohol."

The young man ran a hand through his shaggy hair, "I used to think that I did." A bitter laugh emitted from him as he ran a hand up and down the wooden podium, "I would rationalize my behaviors into things that everyone does," he paused and smiled weakly, "it worked until I lost my job and my friends because of what the alcohol had made me become."

His watery eyes scanned the scattered group before dropping to focus back on the podium, "I'm Eric and I'm an alcoholic."

The murmurs of welcome around the room bounced off the white-washed walls and Cristina glanced over her shoulders to see if there was still coffee, since she was fifteen minutes late.

* * *

Arizona slammed the empty shot glass on the bar and put the lemon wedge in her mouth, making a sour face as her eyes watered. When she was through she put the lemon down looked to Reese. "I'm getting to old for this."

"Keep up, sister!" Reese winked at her, throwing back another shot. Arizona had lost count as to how many they had drunk. She just shook her head.

"Reese," she touched her arm and noticed she couldn't feel her fingertips, "I need a break. I know my limits."

"You know them better than anyone I've ever met, Captain."

Clearing her throat, Arizona pointed towards the corner of the room, "Let's get a table, RC, okay?"

"Whoa, Nellie!" Reese lightly patted Arizona's arm before clicking her tongue at the bartender and raising two fingers at him, "The only time you bring out that nickname is serious time."

Two highballs were placed down in front of the women, "And I'm not here for serious time, Robbins. I'm here for booze and boys."

Grimacing, Arizona said, "Reese about the boys part of your equation."

"You got someone in mind for me while I'm in town?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

Arizona paused momentarily, thinking about Mark Sloan, but settled on the fact that even for a one night stand, she didn't want to do that to her most loyal fellow battle buddy. "No, as a matter of fact, I don't have any boys in mind."

"Listen," Arizona went on, "You are my best friend. You were my closest confidante in the Marines, but the time we spent together..." she trailed off weakly before restarting, a little stronger and more focused. "There was always something missing from our friendship because you never really knew who I am."

"You're Captain Arizona Robbins, the toughest bad-ass Marine pilot that ever took to the skies!" Reese said, raising her glass in toast.

Many in the bar lifted their glasses in a toast, with a deep drunken bellow of 'Hoorah' coming from different spots in the room.

"Reese," covering her friend's hand for a moment, Arizona started to pull away before her friend placed her own palm up, in effect, stopping her.

She smiled sweetly, "Arizona, you don't have to tell me nothing." Tilting her head, blonde hair cascaded down her shoulder as Reese knowingly winked, "Unless you want to tell me, then I'm here to hear it."

"I'm not in the Marines anymore," Robbins replied.

"But you'll always be a Marine, regardless of your current status, honey." Reese tightened her grip on Arizona's hand.

"Yes, I will. But that's not all that I am. I had to hide who I was for years while serving, so I think that it's only right and fair that I finally get to tell you."

"You're gay."

"You didn't let me tell you!"

Holding her hands up in faux surrender, Reese laughed, "Oh, Cap'n you have been telling me for years. In the not telling way that is, of course."

Arizona hit her friend on the shoulder a couple of times, "I hate you."

"You hate my total support of you and your," Reese paused for a long moment and let her jaw hang open, "_f__riend_, Callie," she let out slow whistle, "hot hot Torres?"

Arizona's jaw dropped as she took in her giggling pint-sized friend, "What do you mean, are you?"

The question dangled in the air before Reese's eyes widened to the size of a silver-dollar, "Gay?" She sputtered, "No dear, I'm boringly straight, but I have eyes, and that so-called friend of yours..."

Arizona nodded, "Is hot."

* * *

"So what you're telling me is that you try to keep a log of these things, but when it comes down to it, the process you have is really inefficient?" Callie asked, getting more depressed by the minute.

"Some things can slip through the cracks," Meredith Grey nodded. "Now, narcotics and things of that nature - highly controlled substances - those are under lock and key. They're a lot harder to get a hold of, but probably get stolen or misplaced more than we would like."

"What about a prescription? Would this be something that you'd give to someone? Should we be checking in with the pharmacy?" Sloan asked. "C'mon, give me a lead. Any lead, Dr. Grey."

Again, she shook her head. "We don't prescribe injectable tranquilizers. They're oral capsules if a script is written."

"So there is the possibility that the tranqs were stolen from this hospital?"

Meredith nodded at Sloan, "Yes, but if it was just one, I don't know if it would be caught."

Rubbing at her nose and then raising her hand as if to ask a question, Callie butted in, "Okay, so Doctor... how else would a perp be able to get injectable tranquilizers?"

Both detectives leaned in as Dr. Grey clicked her pen in a quick rhythm before she snapped it and jutted her arm forward at the same time, "Did Derek check to see if they were tranquilizers that were made for a human?"

Sloan smiled at her, "So the perp either lifted them from a hospital, an EMS unit, or a vet?" He chuckled for a moment and clapped his hands together, "Okay, well so we look at another avenue, thanks Meredith."

As they were leaving, Callie stopped and called back to Meredith. "Would anyone who worked here know these facts? That one syringe could walk away unnoticed?"

Meredith shrugged, "It depends on who you are and who you know." Then she turned on her heels and left.

"As much as I hate that I'm about to say this..." Sloan sighed, "Let's go talk to Derek."

* * *

As the share session went around the room, it eventually got to her and Yang quietly said, "Thanks, I'm just listening tonight," which is usually all she ever did at the Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. She drank a cup of strong black coffee and listened.

When the share circle had completed the room and no one else volunteered anything further, the group leader stood and said, "As I pass around the collections basket, I want to remind you of the Twelfth Tradition, anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our Traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities. Now if everyone could stand and join hands," he motioned with his own.

The group stood in a circle, held hands, bowed their heads, and started reciting the serenity prayer. Cristina knew it all too well, and joined in with her neighbors.

"God, grant us the...

Serenity to accept things we cannot change,

Courage to change the things we can, and the

Wisdom to know the difference."

* * *

The bullseye was in her sights as she lined up the shot. Reese's tongue peeked out between her lips in concentration before she closed both of her eyes and threw the dart forward. A loud thud was her reward as she quickly opened her eyes, shooting her arms up in the air, she spun on her heel as she pumped one arm up and down.

"And that's how you beat the pants off of a sure of herself pilot," she tipped back the bottle of beer and winked at Arizona, "Ma'am."

"When you squeeze the trigger on your rifle, do you close your eyes as well?" Robbins stood and pulled the darts from the board, then returned to the throwing line.

Nodding, Reese watched as Arizona sunk her first dart in the double ring of the twenty. "I find it helps. Somehow with my eyes open it always floats left."

The next dart hit dead center in the bullseye and she frowned for a moment as her score was quickly being caught up to, "But to answer your earlier question, I had an inkling since our first scheduled leave when we when to Atlanta, back to your stomping grounds."

"I didn't even have a girl in Atlanta," Arizona thought back. "Well, that's not entirely true. I had interest in this woman who hated the military. It didn't and never would have worked, but she was fiiiiiiine," she blushed. "I went out to the bar with you though, fought off my share of boys hitting on me, didn't I?"

Reese pressed her lips together and let out a long, "Mmmmhmmm." She raised her eyebrow, "Exactly that Robbins, you fought off all those fine boys wanting to buy you a drink and asking you to dance. It's what you didn't do."

"It all just seemed sort of pointless. I gave up a lot for my country. I wasn't going to give up my integrity to make me seem more..." she waved her hand in the air. "You know?" She reached for her drink and took a large swallow. "I didn't date anyone. For years." Another swallow. "Yeeeeeeaaaaaars, Reese."

A quiet sadness filled her eyes as she brushed a piece of Arizona's hair behind her ear, "I'm sorry that you had to sacrifice that part of yourself to be a Marine, Captain."

Reese cupped her cheek and ran her thumb along it, "But look at you now. You're still flying, saving lives, and you're dating. You're a whole Arizona now." She pulled back and raised her beer to her lips, taking a swig before lowering it, "And a damn good Marine, too."

Arizona ducked her head. "Thanks, RC." Then she smiled and raised her eyes. "I can't wait for you to really meet her. She was a little off this morning."

"Dear, you do realize why she was off, right?" Reese stepped back and swept her hand from her head down to her feet making sure to move slowly. Arizona's eyes followed along, taking in the tight fitting black dress that her friend was wearing with heels that merely accentuated her legs. "It's not like you were walking into a bar with Medusa on your arm."

"Oh no." Realization suddenly hit her. "I'm an idiot."

"And she carries a gun," Reese laughed lightly.

"Maybe it's you that should be worried."

* * *

The hum of the lights sounded like a choir warming up as the long room was illuminated stack by stack. The stocky man jutted his hand at the metal shelves ahead of them, "I wasn't here during the case with, what was her name again?"

Callie rolled her eyes and answered for the fourth time, "Betsy Miller."

"Yeah, Betsy."

He pulled the clipboard from under his arm and flipped the pages slowly, which only irritated Callie more. She felt Mark place his hand at the small of her back for a moment before stepping in front of her in an attempt to diffuse the situation, "Gary, here let me take a look at that."

A loud smack of his lips reverberated through the room, but the officer handed the clipboard over, "Have fun, I'm going to go back to the counter."

Mark raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Gary, you and I both know you're supposed to go with us."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, waving his hand at them. "I trust you."

Callie watched him as he disappeared out the door and down the hallway. "Splendid fellow. Cares a lot," she said dryly.

Sloan shook his head and shoved the clipboard at her. "We're looking for Aisle 16, bin 22." He turned right in the storage room, looking at rows of rolling cabinets filled with files.

As they walked, the numbers began to grow larger, and Callie could not keep her silence any longer. "Is this where officers go to die?"

"No, retire," Mark replied.

"Shouldn't the cold case investigators be the most tenacious?" she asked.

Mark shrugged, "These cases are dead, Torres. They're cold because there are no leads."

"So when you put in your time and get burnt out on the job, you get to come here and not give a damn anymore?"

Mark could tell she was fired up, but it was the truth. "Yep."

Callie ran the tips of her fingers over the cabinets. She tried to focus on the bite of the cold metal running up her arm to bring her back to why they were here. A sharp snap sounded in front of her and she looked at Mark standing in front of a cabinet as if he was unearthing an archaeological artifact, which, in some ways, he was.

He thumbed through the file folder, "Looks like we have a corresponding evidence box too," he glanced up at his partner, "I think right now we'll have enough looking through-"

"Mark?" she questioned as his voice had stopped and a smile broke over his face. "What?"

He pulled out the large file and pointed at the signature line, "Looks like we know the primary investigator."

"Don't tell me it's your buddy Gary out there," she said with an eye roll.

"No, it's about six million times better than that." His grin was wide and spread to his eyes. "It's Major Richard Webber."

"He retired last year. He was a legend in homicide, back in the day," she replied in whispered tones, suddenly full of respect.

"Yeah, well, he spent his final years overseeing missing persons," Mark said, then poked the case file in his hand, "And he worked this case."

With a heavy sigh Callie said, "And still it went unsolved."

"You know he was Bailey's mentor, right?"

Her eyebrow arched in disbelief, "You mean that Bailey didn't start the force already aware of all rules and regs?"

Mark nudged her with his elbow, "Are you making jokes? Is this you joking tonight?" He chuckled and Callie joined in for a moment.

"Come off it, Mark," she nudged him back, causing him to lose his balance for a moment, "So you're saying that Bailey could help us talk to Webber?"

He carefully closed the file folder and tucked it under his arm, "Hell, she's a good start."

* * *

Arizona unbuttoned her cardigan and slipped out of the sleeves, revealing a snug fitting silk tank top underneath. "It's hot in here. Don't you think it's hot in here?" She repeated again to Reese.

"It's not that hot in here. You've become weak since you got back from your tour of duty." She pushed her playfully on the shoulder. "Weak, Robbins."

"You want to have some sort of weight lifting competition or something? I'm not weak. I'm just hot."

Reese tried to respond through the giggles that were erupting from her. "You keep leaving yourself open for all sorts of inappropriate remarks for a soldier."

"I'm not a soldier anymore." Arizona raised her hands, palms up.

"Ah, yes, but I still am," she winked.

Arizona narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips at Reese, who in turn, crooked her forefinger beckoning Arizona to come closer.

As they inched closer together, Reese whispered lightly to her friend, "But once a Marine, always a Marine, Robbins. You bleed the Corps, just like me."

Whipping her own forefinger up quickly, Arizona said, "You sound like a broken record tonight." She jutted out her finger at the end of the sentence for emphasis, and accidentally poked Reese in the eye. A blurt of laughter emitted from her as she covered her mouth a second later, "Oh, are you okay?" Her giggles made the speech sound like it rattled out of a machine gun.

Throwing her hands up, Reese leaned back in her chair, "Bullseye."

"I'm so sorry," Arizona was still laughing. "My mind has a finger of its own!"

Reese wiped at her cheek as a tear trickled down her face, "You are drunk, Captain."

She watched her friend's mouth drop open as a shocked gasp came from Arizona, "I am not. Maybe a little bit buzzed."

"Oh, wow." Reese said.

"What?"

"You're really," she emphasized the next word, "really drunk if you're denying being drunk."

"Oh no," Arizona whispered, looking at her watch. "No, I can't be drunk. No siree."

"Why's that?" Reese asked, stacking a coaster on top of her glass and putting a second glass on top of it.

"Because I have to go to work tonight. Cristina," she paused. "Oh, Cristina. She's going to kill me."

"Then we have to sober you up. Quick."

"You're right!" Arizona slapped her hands on top of the table and yelled out, "Joe! I need the most concentrated water you have behind that bar!"

He filled a glass and handed it to her as he approached the table. "Here you go, Captain. I didn't dilute this water with any alcohol."

Lifting the glass to her lips, Arizona pulled it away looking at it with distrust, "Is this filtered?"

"Unfiltered tap," Joe deadpanned.

"Ooo," Reese snapped her fingers repeatedly in some form of a cheer, "then it's fortified with iron and fluoride, too."

Joe stifled a smile, "Exactly what she said." He turned back to the bar with a smooth, "Ladies," and a curt nod.

They both nodded to his back and Arizona sputtered, "Joes."

"Did you pluralize Joe?" Reese accused.

Arizona snorted loudly, shook her head and rolled her eyes almost simultaneously, "No."

"Because I'm pretty sure there are two of that guy," Reese chucked a finger in his direction.

"You're drunk too!" Arizona screeched in excitement.

"No." But she was shaking her head yes. "Maybe."

Arizona leaned forward, intensely, and then said, "I bet I can be sober before you are."

Reese stood quickly, knocking her chair over, and yelled, "Joes! I want iron water, too!"

* * *

The gurgle of the coffee machine was hypnotic at the tail end of the shift and Mark nearly drifted off with his mug in his hand until Callie's voice snapped him out of it. "Looks like Webber went all out with this case."

Clearing his throat, Mark rolled his shoulders, trying to work out some of the muscle tension from the long week. "Yeah, he was a by the book guy. Would follow every lead. Thought out of the box... I didn't know a lot about him once he went to the missing persons division though."

Callie nodded, "But we know someone who knows him really well." She tilted her head in the direction of Captain Bailey's office.

"Go ahead, slugger," Mark motioned for her to take the lead. "Time to put on your big girl pants and talk to the boss lady."

Taking a deep breath, Callie prepared herself mentally and knocked on Bailey's office door. It opened sharply in front of her and she was looking down into steely brown eyes. "What do you want, Torres? It better be to tell me you've put three homicides to bed."

Callie cleared her throat, "Actually, I was hoping that you could get us an audience with Retired Major Webber."

Suddenly her demeanor changed, became softer, calmer, more approachable, and Bailey said, "Webber? I sure do miss that guy around here. Now he was a real investigator!"

Bailey returned to her chair and twirled a pen around her thumb, "Why would you need to both him, Torres?"

"Bother?" Callie's voice nearly squeaked, "No, Ma'am, in the Wells case we'd like to follow up with him about Betsy Miller, a missing person, from two years ago."

Callie could feel the sweat starting to trickle down her neck as she saw Bailey's brows furrow together; usually this led to being yelled at by the Captain.

"Betsy Miller, eh?"

Her eyes cracked open. Callie had shut them in preparation for a tirade, but instead found Bailey's head nodding up and down.

"That's a good follow-up Torres."

Callie found herself sighing in relief and shooting a quick glance back to her partner, who made a 'who-knew' type gesture.

"I'll hook you up with his address," Bailey said, writing something on a piece of paper, "but you need to call first because his wife used to hate it when he'd bring his work home with him. I can't say I know what her reaction would be now that he's finally retired."

* * *

Mark slammed the car door shut as he heard Callie's car come to a stop behind him. Shoving his hands into his pockets he ducked his head down, grinning through her driver's side window. "You clean up good."

A swift car door to the gut and he stepped back chuckling, "That's no way to take a compliment."

Callie grumbled, "Why are we back here?"

"Because," Mark hooked an arm around her shoulders, "Because we get to mix with the common folk during the mythical happy hour."

Rolling her eyes, Callie raised her chin up at her partner, "Is that Sloan for 'new chicks'?"

He grinned widely and pulled her closer, "I love how you get me."

"You're not that hard to get. All you do it think about sex."

"And solve crime!" he grinned.

She allowed his arm to remain around her as they walked into the bar, and was completely surprised to see Arizona and Reese at a table by the dartboard with a crowd of men around them yelling excitedly, "Chug, chug, chug!"

Her eyes shot to Mark and he whispered exactly what she was thinking, "What the fuck?"

Boldly, Callie stepped forward and approached the women.

Slamming down the cup, Reese raised her hands up in the air, "Victory is mine!" She pumped her hand up and down in the air as she laughed at her friend who just now was slamming down her mug.

Arizona's hands were waving in front of her face, "You're crazy Carmichael." She ran her hands through her hair while shaking her head back and forth.

"I just burned my esophagus. I think I need medical attention or something." She pressed her lips on the inside of her wrist, closing her eyes momentarily.

The crowd that had gathered around them cheered and several of the men exchanged money before dissipating.

"If you can't chug coffee with the big dogs, Arizona..."

She shook her head as she replied, "You are most certainly not a big dog."

Callie tugged on the bottom of her leather coat as she weaved through the few remaining members of the cheer squad. She cleared her throat and threw glances to both of the women, "I really had not expected you both to still be here... still."

Her gaze settled on Arizona, "Don't you have to be at work in like three hours?"

Arizona nodded repeatedly, "Yes." Then she looked up at her girlfriend sheepishly, with a small smile. "That is exactly the reason I am trying to sober up and caffeinate myself at the same time."

Callie shook her head. "Uh uh. You cannot go to work tonight. Call out."

"All I heard you say there was, 'Spend the night with me.'" Arizona winked.

"Don't do that, Arizona!"

"Ooooooooooooooo, you're in trouble," Reese whispered to Arizona behind her hand.

"Shut up, Carmichael!" Arizona smacked the table top and glass jingled on top of it.

Callie raised her hands and scoffed, "Okay, so now you're flirting with me?"

"I am going to go to the bathroom," whispered Reese as she slid out of her chair and started towards the side hall until Callie caught her wrist.

"No, feel free to stay," said Callie softly, "I seem to be the one interrupting."

"No! You're not!" Arizona grabbed her coat. "This is really a simple explanation."

"I'm not sure that I want to hear it," Callie started, but was cut off by Arizona.

"Too bad, Torres. You're going to hear it." She pointed to Reese. "This is an old Marine friend."

"Hey, I'm not that old!" Reese interjected.

Arizona leaned closer and whispered, "Zip it, my relationship is hanging in the balance." Placing a hand on Callie's shoulder she said, "When you're in the military, you're forced to live a closeted life. This is the first time I've seen Reese since I've been de-commissioned and I wanted to use today to come out to her for real."

"I already knew," Reese said, waving her hand.

"You're not helping!"

Callie turned to Reese, "You knew?"

Pushing her hair off of her forehead, Reese pursed her lips, "Well, had a strong inkling. You don't know until you're told."

She smiled kindly at her friend and turned towards the bar and bellowed loudly, "Joe! Another round of Joe."

Arizona winced for a moment and opened her eyes slowly, "I'm sorry I was an idiot earlier. Most of my friends are all still in the service and -"

"I'm sorry, too. The introduction just seemed weird and felt like you were trying to hide something so I made it into something it wasn't and then it worse than it needed to be and all day I was worried that you were seeing someone else and I realize now that I'm saying these things out loud that we've never actually said we were going to be exclusive and probably this is a conversation we should have someday not in front of a whole bar of people I barely know." Callie took a breath, then covered her face with her hands. "I need a drink," she mumbled into them.

Tugging Callie's hands into her own, Arizona leaned forward, resting their foreheads together, "I caught about forty percent of that, but it was one hundred percent adorable."

"Really?" Callie questioned softly.

Arizona pulled back, bent down and gazed up into Callie's eyes, "Really. Now, can we revisit this tomorrow when I'm sober?"

"Yes," Callie nodded, "Absolutely, let's revisit this."

_In the history of me, you, I, and us we make decisions that inform who we are_.

"Okay you two," Reese's voice cut through the bar as she sashayed by patrons to get back to their table, "enough of your saccharine sweet goo."

Setting down two cups of coffee, she offered a beer to Callie. She ticked her finger back and forth between the two, "Now, Arizona, you failed to introduce me to this beautiful woman here."

_Those decisions shape who we are in the present: if we learn from mistakes and how quickly we can adjust to the future._

Callie's mouth dropped open for a moment before she felt Arizona's hand slip into her own.

"Reese, this is my girlfriend, Calliope Torres." Arizona leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on Callie's cheek.

Sticking out her hand, Reese smiled widely, "Oh, _this_ is Callie? Oh my word, have I heard fabulous things about you."

Callie blushed slightly and took a sip of her beer as her eyes ticked back in embarrassment. "Oh, stop it. I apologize for my poor first impression. I promise you I don't intentionally lose my mind. But when it comes to her," Callie ducked her head, "I can't seem to help myself."

_Our experiences also affect how quickly we learn, accept change, and forgive. Those who react calmly and quickly are the people who stay tranquil in the storm of life._

Shaking a packet of sugar against her palm, Reese grinned at the two women in front of her, "And just to think, Robbins, that you'd hit the jackpot on the first try."

Callie choked on her beer, "Your first what?"

"Um," Arizona's brow crinkled in thought and she smiled tightly, "I think what see means to say..."

Soft laughter peeled out of Reese and she clarified, "Not like first, first, just," she waved her hand back and forth, "first girlfriend."

Her eyes narrowed as Callie took in Arizona's look of shock and embarrassment. She wrapped her arm around Arizona's waist and tugged her closer. Placing a butterfly kiss on the top of her head, Callie felt her relax in her embrace.

"Man, if I had known that, I wouldn't have been so nervous talking to you that first time," Callie spoke into the top of her head.

"Why were you so nervous?" Arizona asked, looking back at her.

"Sloan told me you were a tough nut to crack."

Reese started laughing, "She always was one of the boys."


	8. Episode Eight: Heavy in Your Arms

**Midnight Oil: Special Assignment**

By taintedidealist and drnik46

**Disclaimer:** We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on Grey's Anatomy which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably _Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Castle, Law and Order_ and _CSI_. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained.

**Ratings:** Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time or all in this episode.

**Feedback:** Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.

**Story Information:** This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters' lives, but not who they are as a person. Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, and Miranda Bailey work for the Seattle Police Department. Captain Arizona Robbins and Cristina Yang are paramedics. Lexie Grey is a crime scene technician. Crime, injuries, and death occur in their city as Callie and Arizona get to know one another on a more personal level.

**Episode Eight: Heavy in Your Arms**

Callie leaned back in her chair and heard the long groan of the spring, reminding her of why she disliked the day shift; too much of it was spent at a desk with paperwork. She flipped another file folder open from the piles scattered on her desk. It was the medical examiner's report on the homicide from five weeks ago. Shepherd's scrawling notes over the autopsy seemed like script from a Bronte sister's novel. His choice of wording seemed like he was telling the story of the body's life before, during, and after the act of death. He was eerie in his admiration of the story that is left behind on a corpse.

_The body can feel the weight long after it is gone; our minds trick us into ignoring the tangibles._

"Look, Torres, I know that we haven't closed these homicides yet, but you need to stop looking at those reports. We're not getting anything new and the lab is so backed up we're not going to for quite some time." Sloan finished his cup of coffee and put the empty mug on top of one of her stacks of files.

Callie rubbed her neck. "I hate not closing cases. I feel like there's always something hanging over my head."

_Subconsciously, stressors are always weighing on our minds, even if we try to ignore them, even if we have coping mechanisms to deal with them, even if we acknowledge their existence... we're all weighed down by something._

"Then you should be happy. We've closed every case that's come across our desk while we've been on this day shift," Mark's finger jabbed into her desk to emphasize his point. "It's unheard of. We're the Heroes of Homicide."

"You're the only one that calls us that, Sloan." Callie rolled her eyes.

"You're never happy. We clear cases and all you can think about are these three drunks!" He took the folder from her hands and closed it for her. "Look... case closed. Can we move on?"

* * *

_Or someone._

The feel of the metal under her hand was soothing, the cool exterior of the helicopter seemed to shine, even with the sun dipping below the buildings; playing hide and seek with Arizona as she tried to get the muck and grime off of the bird. She had come in early on the shift to spend some time alone on the landing pad. Lifting her arm to her forehead, she tried to move the tendrils of hair out of her face and failed. She only pushed the hair around to land on her nose, which caused her to huff lightly before giving up. The suds dripped down her forearms causing her to shiver, perhaps khaki pants and a t-shirt were not the wisest decision for the scrub down, but it held comfort for her, reminding her of a time when she was washing sand off of her Huey instead of mud.

Dropping the sponge into the bucket, she watched as the water splashed out and over the sides, like a bomb hitting a target.

"Hey!"

Arizona turned quickly, reaching at her hip for an imaginary sidearm before she saw Cristina and relaxed.

"Hey, Cristina."

"You're here early," Yang's brows furrowed as she walked across the helipad toward Arizona, the keys hooked on her belt jingling as she approached. "You've ruined my whole routine."

"I thought I was the crazy superstitious one," Arizona replied, shaking her hands and then patting them on her pants.

"You're rubbing off on me, then."

Cristina bent down to pick up the wash bucket and as she lifted her eyes, she took in her partner's stance. Glancing up into the sky, she was happy to see the clouds clearing out for a respite from the past few rainy shifts, "Not talking about it?"

Turning her head, Arizona cleared her throat, "No."

"Okay then," snapping her gaze back down as the sun peeked back out for an encore, Cristina turned toward the door.

Arizona called out, "That's it?"

"You don't want to talk," Yang said, still with her back facing Arizona. She had her own problems to deal with anyway.

* * *

Captain Bailey clapped Sloan on the back as she walked in. "You've been doing good work, Detectives! Good work. Good good work."

"Uh oh," Callie mumbled as she stood with her partner.

"And that's why I'm sending you out on a call that just came in." Bailey's eyes grew wide, daring them to resist.

Mark must have been in a particularly cantankerous mood because he actually spoke up. "We're just about to go off shift."

"Quitting time? There's no quitting here, Sloan," Bailey replied sternly. "You're going on this call. That's a direct order."

* * *

Snapping on the latex gloves, Mark wiggled his fingers as they sidestepped the congregated group of patrol cars in the parking lot of the gym, "I really just don't get the name of this place. Gimme Ten."

"You know like give me ten more," Callie added as she lifted the crime scene tape for her partner.

He grinned at the bent over figure in front of him that was inspecting the victim lying prone on the bench press. A wince covered his face as pain jutted up his arm and he looked to his right, seeing raised eyebrows from Callie, "What!" he lowered his voice from the near shout, "Was that for?"

"No checking out, we're working."

"Fine," he whispered back to her before approaching Lexie. "What's the story, Morning Glory?"

Lexie stared at him, almost panicked.

He interpreted her look as confused and shrugged it off. "What do you know?" he asked again, in simpler terms.

"Uhh..." blushing slightly, Lexie looked down to her gloved hands. "Woman in her thirties, worked here at the gym as a personal trainer. She's been identified as Margaret Mayfield. Medical Examiner thinks it's positional asphyxia."

"When was the body found?" Sloan was jotting down remarks in a small, handheld notebook.

"Early this morning when the gym opened. We've been here all day. They're just about to move her." Lexie nodded toward the medical examiner's investigators who were standing at the entrance to the gym.

"Why didn't we hear about this sooner?" Callie asked, overhearing Lexie's last statement.

Lexie shrugged. "There were two other detectives here earlier, but I heard that Captain Bailey was reassigning the case. Didn't know it would be you two," she smiled, a slight blush rising to her cheeks again. "Aren't you still on days?"

A wide grin crossed Mark's face slowly, "We're switching back to overnights on Thursday." He leaned in, voice lowering as he continued, "I didn't know you were keeping track of me, Lexie."

Her mouth dropped, "I'm not-uh," she breathed out heavily, "Meredith said that you and Derek went golfing, which you know is daytime," her eyes darted around like trapped prey before she looked back at Sloan, "day activities."

Clearing her throat loudly, Callie stepped in between the two, "Was there any sign of a struggle or noticeable injection sites on the body?"

"No injection sites that I've seen. There is a broken mirror and some of her personal effects seem like they might be missing. Other than that, it's just this heavy bar bell on top of her. 185 pounds, which we're told she couldn't lift on her own and wouldn't even try. We can swab the bar and weights for DNA, but lots of people have handled it and were probably sweating all over it and in all likelihood we're going to get a DNA mixture that no one will be able to make heads or tails of." Lexie took a breath.

"Does anyone ever tell you that you talk really fast?" Sloan asked, rather slowly.

Lexie smiled, "Only all the time."

* * *

The hum of the engine turned into a welcome high pitched, one note scream which lead to the deep baritone of the rotary blades coming to life. The doctor had radioed up to the flight deck that the organ was on its way. Arizona loved being the conductor of her favorite two note opera. After two minutes, the engine kicked into high gear and she pulled her helmet on tighter. The door to the roof opened as the team of two doctors bent down to take the run to the aircraft.

"Ready to play taxi, Yang?"

Buckling herself in, Cristina leaned back, "Why does it always have to be Dr. Day? Every. Time."

Chuckling to herself, Arizona felt the side door open and looked over her shoulder. Raising her voice to a yell, "Doctors, ready to get going to Seattle Grace?"

They gave a slight wave and climbed aboard her craft. Once secure, Arizona took off into the night sky.

In the back, Yang did all she could to ignore Dr. Day. Looking out of the window, she admired the night stars, noting some of the more obscure constellations that her father had taught her when she was a young girl. She wondered what he would think of her and all of her accomplishments to date.

* * *

Mark tapped in a few keystrokes into their computer system, looking up their most recent victim's arrest history. It had become habit for him in the past few weeks, although it was not one he was sharing with his partner. That is, until now.

"Great! We've got another dead drunk! I knew it was just a matter of time. Man, it feels like forever since we _haven't_ cleared a case!"

Callie raised an eyebrow as she pushed herself forward in her rolling chair with her legs in short spurts, around the corner of their joined desks. She came to a stop beside Mark and leaned toward his computer screen. Squinting at the information of the victim's arrest record, she released a grunt of surprise.

"Exactly." Mark leaned back, crossing his arms in front of him before pointing back at the screen, "All of the unsolved mysteries-"

"I loved that show," his partner interrupted and then cleared her throat, "all have the common thread of alcohol."

Tapping the side of his nose Mark nodded, "And there can't be this many coincidences, Torres."

"Nooooooo," Callie moaned. "Not another one of these. I hate these!" She slumped into her chair. "Why can't we just have a simple cheating spouse? I like cheating spouses." She squinted as her brow furrowed in thought, "Well, not the cheating parts, but the solvability... I like that part."

"You should like this, Torres. Now we have another case to work with. There have to be some other links that can turn into a lead." He clicked his mouse and a new window popped up on his screen. "I pulled the police report. According to investigating officers, she and a co-worker, Jackson Avery, were at work doing their personal trainer thing. She states that he slipped, hit his head on the tile, and drown in the Olympic sized pool they had at the gym. She seemed shaken up at the time of the interview, but they didn't press her or take her BAC at the time. When they interviewed other people, they found out she was a raging alcoholic and lied to cover up that fact frequently."

Callie twirled her hair around her finger for a moment, "I think I remember this one," leaning forward, she opened an internet browser and brought up a search engine. Her fingers quickly slid across the keyboard and input Jackson's name; after a moment, a flurry of links to newspaper articles and videos popped up. Callie clicked on the King 5 news video and saw an older man clearing his throat in front of Seattle Grace Hospital. She snapped her fingers and pointed, "His father was the head cardiologist at Seattle Grace."

"Mmm," Mark ran his fingers along his jaw line, "That's Harper Avery; he's the Chief of Surgery now." He noticed Callie's surprised look, "Meredith has talked about him over dinner." He took in her scowl, "_With_ Derek. Feel like a field trip?"

* * *

"Yes, I understand that he is very busy," Callie patiently replied to a woman who introduced herself as April Kepner. She was apparently the presiding gate keeper over Harper Avery's office. "But it's really important that we ask him some questions." She showed her badge once again, and then looked to Mark for help, hoping his charming smile would work a little better.

Mark glanced across the walkway and he pointed toward the window-sided office, "Now, April," he grinned, "I see that the Chief is in the office and while I know he's a busy man," he shrugged lightly and tilted his head, continuing in a whisper, "it looks like he's taking a nap."

The petite brunette laughed nervously as she fiddled with a small red notebook, "Um, he is busy resting from the-" she stopped short as Mark wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "the, the surgery from earlier."

Another wink and grin later, Mark was lightly rapping on the door with his knuckles. His answer was a gravely bark, "Kepner! I told you, no interruptions."

The door pulled back sharply and a gaunt man cleared his throat, "If this is about a patient, Dr. Kepner will be more than happy to assist you."

Stepping forward, Callie dipped her head for a moment before raising her eyes back at Chief Avery, "It's about your grandson, Sir."

"Jacky?"

Sloan took a step forward when the chief relaxed a bit. "Do you think we could step inside and ask you a few questions?"

He nodded slowly and opened the door wider, motioning for the detectives to come in. As she took a step forward, following Mark, Torres noticed an unmistakable walk and bounce of blonde hair coming toward her down the hall. She winked through the glass window at Arizona and pointed at her watch with one raised, questioning brow and a cocked head.

Arizona mouthed to her, "Coffee?"

Catching the subtle nod, Arizona turned on her heel and headed toward the coffee cart on the lower floor. She caught sight of the unruly curls of her partner leaning against the main level nursing station, "Hey, want some coffee?"

"What? We're getting coffee?" Cristina yawned for a moment, "I thought we were leaving the hospital to get rid of the boredom."

Arizona waggled her eyebrows for a moment and then broke out into a smile, "We were, until I saw Callie up in the Chief of Surgery's office."

Cristina made a disgusted sound. "I hate that guy. I hope she's arresting him for something." She turned up her nose and the sour look remained upon her face as she accompanied Arizona.

"You know Chief Avery?" Arizona questioned lightly.

Letting out a deep sigh, Cristina scuffed her foot along the tile, "He's just not as God-like as the doctors around here make him out to be."

Giving a warm smile at the girl at the coffee cart, Arizona quickly ordered two before raising an eyebrow at Yang, "Have you worked with him before?"

"More of a personal let down," Yang responded solemnly and ordered from the cart as well. "He was my father's surgeon."

"I thought you said the EMS unit didn't get there in time," Arizona said, recalling the story Yang had told her months ago.

Motioning back to the coffee girl, Arizona stuck up another finger and whispered, "And a cappuccino while you're at it, please."

Yang took a long drag from her cup and sighed before answering, "That was his excuse - why my father didn't come through surgery. But I've been on scene since then. The damage could have been dealt with if he is what all those shiny awards in his office say he is."

"You don't believe him?"

"I think he botched the surgery and didn't have the courage to tell a little girl that her daddy was dead because of him."

Arizona couldn't take the ice in Yang's eyes and looked away momentarily.

Cristina shrugged. "After that, I decided I didn't want to be a surgeon anymore. If I became a paramedic, he could never use that excuse again."

Arizona turned away from the cart and carried three cups in a tight triangle as Cristina plodded along beside her. "Are you enjoying the coffee?"

"Hmm?" Yang questioned as she cleared her throat and refocused on Arizona, "Sorry, what did you say?"

"The coffee," Arizona nodded, "is it everything you wished it would be?"

Cristina's voice lifted, parodying a Disney princess, "Everything and more," fanning herself lightly she shrugged, "Better than the sludge at the station."

"I'm sorry to bring up bad memories," she said quietly as she placed the cups on a table in the cafe. "I had no idea."

* * *

"No, it's okay, Son." Chief Avery pushed his white coat back, tucking his hands into his pants pockets, "It's actually a bit relieving to hear that she's passed away."

Mark and Callie exchanged a look quickly before the man answered the unasked question, "I was in an emergency surgery yesterday for eleven hours, but if you're looking for an alibi for the specific time, I'd be happy to oblige."

"That's not why we're here," Torres cut in. "We'd rather know some information surrounding Jackson's death. It looks like maybe some of our colleagues could have done a better job back then. The whole thing was treated like an accident when..."

"It most certainly was not." The Chief sat down heavily at his desk. "Would you like to know what I think happened?"

Mark nodded curtly, "We would, Sir."

Rolling a pen back and forth on the desk, he pushed out his lips into a frown, "I believe that the action behind my grandson's death was of intentional harm." He held the gaze of both detectives as he continued, "Maggie was a nice girl when sober, and a mean one when drunk. I've only met the nice girl once, after Jacky's funeral."

"Did she attend the funeral?" Callie asked.

He cleared his throat roughly, "No, since she cleaned herself up after she killed Jacky, she knew not to show her face there."

Callie stepped forward and Dr. Avery lifted his eyes to her and smiled for a moment, "Detectives, Margaret killed my grandson. She had history of being a drunk and Jacky had confronted her before about working around teenagers while inebriated. There had been vocal fights, and physical ones instigated by her." He tapped his pointer finger roughly into the desk, "She killed him."

Callie nodded. "And she was never brought up on criminal charges."

"No, Detective. She was not. So you can see why I am relieved to hear of her death. I couldn't save my grandson and yet she went on living. Justice has finally been served." His eyes began to water as the doctor tried to hold back tears.

A wave of realization swept over Torres and she glanced over to her partner to see if he had the same thought, but instead she saw Mark intently focused on Dr. Avery. "Sir, we're so sorry for your loss and hope you can find some peace of mind now."

It was trite and she knew it, but most of the condolences they gave were, as words cannot change events.

Mark stuck out his hand toward the doctor and the two men shook, "Thank you for your time."

The Chief coughed a couple of times before sucking in a deep breath, "No problem. And if you need any follow-up questions answered, I would be more than happy to comply."

Moving quickly out of the office, Callie could barely contain her excitement as Mark closed the door behind him.

"What was that all about?" He asked slightly irritated, "You don't bum rush a man like that, Torres."

Callie lowered her voice as she walked briskly across the bridge. She glanced to her left to see a large American flag billowing in the gusty wind outside with a spotlight shining upwards, "He gave us motive, Mark."

"That man? He has no motive and an alibi, might I add."

She stopped abruptly, causing Mark to run into her side and steady himself on the railing, "No, the killer, Mark. He's killing drunks that weren't shown justice that was due to them."

"The killer is what?" Mark blinked at Torres.

"Look," Callie said, raising her index finger, "The burn guy, Nick - he was acquitted of a second degree manslaughter charge for a DUI back in 2007." She held up a second finger, "And the guy that was beaten with a baseball bat, what was his name?"

"Nash," Mark answered, nodding his head as he listened to Callie.

"Right. He had his DUI charge dismissed after fleeing the scene of that hit and run fatality because when they picked him up, his blood alcohol content was under the legal limit."

"But then there's Vincent Wells," Mark chimed in. "We know he was a drunk, but what was his crime? Betsy Miller went missing and was never heard from again. He was never connected to that criminally."

Torres shook her head, "No, his crime was the bar fight. The assault in the bar. Miller never filed charges against Wells because he was so distraught over Betsy being missing. Therefore, justice was never served. And that brings us to Margaret Mayfield."

"Huh," Mark let out a puff of air before a smile slowly worked onto his face, "I was right."

Crossing her arms, Callie leaned back, "Excuse me?" She raised an eyebrow at him skeptically, "I think you mean I'm right."

He mirrored her position and shook his head, "No, I told you these were connected and you pooh-pooh'ed the idea."

She dropped her mouth open, ready to argue that Sloan's idea of being right was built on fairytales and cotton candy instead of an actual string of logical reasoning, but it all fell away when she saw a flight suit out of the corner of her eye. "We'll talk later about who pooh-pooh'ed."

Mark chuckled, "I never took you as one for toilet humor, Torres," he followed her gaze to the approaching medics and felt his heart nearly come to a stop. He covered his mouth to contain his gasp and quickly got a hold of himself to speak, "Robbins, did you get me a cappuccino?"

"I did," Arizona's dimples were out in full force as she held up a cup for him.

Callie moved closer to Arizona and stood beside her. She leaned in and spoke softly, "I love it when you show up where I'm working."

Arizona handed a different styrofoam cup to her. "Speaking of working," she took a sip from her cup and raised her eyebrows in question, "are you back on overnights now?"

Callie ran her thumb along the edge of the plastic cover to remove it and blew lightly over the coffee. "Mmm, not yet. One more day and then we rotate over." She caught a smirk on Arizona's face, "Why the smile?"

A heavy sigh was Cristina's answer, "Because she's pulling a half and will be puttering along on her moped in two more hours." Cristina rolled her eyes as she took a long drag from her cup.

"Moped?" Mark questioned, "I could see that, with the cute little goggles."

Arizona glared at her partner and back at Mark for a moment before moving her eye line to Callie, "Yes, so I'd like to make dinner for you."

In a low, smoldering voice, Callie replied, "I like dinner." Her intonation and inflection suggested she meant something more.

"I know," Arizona winked at her.

* * *

The olive oil drizzled in a slow circle around the pan and Arizona shook some cilantro and oregano into it. She turned around in the kitchen humming lightly to herself as she grabbed the lid for the pot of lightly boiling water. Cooking reminded her of growing up, every Robbins child had a task and hers always centered around what her father was doing, which was the majority of the dinner preparation. Meanwhile, her brother and mother had done a sort of dance around the tattered and worn wooden table. When everyone was together on base, dinner was something that was reassuring.

She hoped it worked tonight, cooking for Callie and opening up about the nights and days since Reese had visited. It had summoned up some memories that she thought were buried. If they were going to get serious with titles of girlfriend and nights spent at each other's places, she needed to make sure that Callie knew what she was getting into, because Arizona knew of herself one thing: she was damaged goods.

The sing-song trill of her doorbell brought her out of the ballet with pots and pans. Trotting to the door, she jerked it back opened and felt a little bit lighter. She smiled as Callie stepped into her apartment, "You didn't even go home to change."

Leaning in for a quick kiss, Callie pulled back, her eyes crinkling at the edges with her smile, "Nah, I figured that food and a pretty woman needed my attention now." She circled her arms around Arizona's waist, bringing her in for a deeper kiss.

She felt a soft pat on her shoulder as Arizona pulled away grinning, "I'm not going to set off the smoke alarm."

"You sure about that?" Callie asked. Arizona's puzzled face made her chuckle to herself, but Callie continued, "You're hot enough to do that on your own."

A groan and crinkled nose answered her, "That was terrible, Calliope."

"What are you cooking, Chef Robbins?" Callie asked, boosting herself onto the kitchen counter. "Smells good."

"Comfort food. Pasta," Arizona stirred the contents of a pan.

"Do you need comfort?" Callie asked with concern. She dropped back down to the floor and crossed the room to Arizona. Stepping in behind her, she started rubbing her shoulders.

"Mmmmm, that feels great," Arizona leaned into her.

Dropping a few kisses on the side of Arizona's neck, Callie leaned back and pushed her thumbs deeper into the tight shoulder muscles before her. "So back to my original question," she moved her hands slowly down Arizona's back, using her spine as a guide before stopping at her lower back and moving her thumbs in a slow circle. "Do you need comfort tonight?"

Arizona took in a breath and held it for a moment before releasing it. She flipped the chicken in the skillet, hearing it sizzle, almost sounding like the soft roar of a crowd, "Yeah, a little. I've been meaning to talk to you since Reese visited."

She felt Callie's hands stop instantly and pushed through, "Reese reminds me of the sandbox," she paused, "Afghanistan. And while she's tangled up in some of the good parts, it wasn't all good." Arizona glanced down as she felt Callie's hands sliding around her sides, and her body spooning her loosely.

"Some of the not so good has been boiling back up?" Callie asked softly, dropping her head onto Arizona's shoulder.

Nodding slowly, Arizona changed her focus and stirred the pasta simmering lightly in a cream sauce, "Yeah..." she wanted to say more, but her throat felt like it was closing up.

"Sweetie, it's okay," Callie held her in her arms. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I'm here, no matter what." She placed a kiss behind her ear.

Arizona's lips trembled and she tried to clear her throat, "I want to talk about it, but I don't want to," she stopped for a moment and brought the back of her hand up wipe at a watery eye, "I'm not always the sunny side up person you've known so far." She reached to the burner dials and one by one clicked them off and turned slightly in the loop of Callie's hold, "I just want you to know what you're getting into, because if you want an exit strategy lined up, I get it, and I wouldn't hold it against you."

"I don't need an exit strategy, Arizona." Callie wiped a tear away from Arizona's cheek with her thumb. "What kind of girlfriend would I be if I left you during a rough time?" She kissed her forehead and whispered softly, "Sunny disposition or thunderstorms."

"Okay, so when I shut down and you don't understand why," Arizona lifted her gaze to Callie, "just ask me, and I'll tell you. That's how we dealt with everything over there, because as women, we were held to an even higher standard with our emotions."

She nodded to herself, "So, would you like some dinner?"

"I would love dinner," Callie smiled warmly and pulled two plates from the cupboard. "And afterwards, you can lower whatever standards you wish."

Arizona quickly closed the gap between them, resting her hand on Callie's hip, her fingers in her belt loops. Her eyes searched Callie's for a moment before planting a soft kiss on her cheek and pulled her closer into a hug.

"You wait until I get dishes in my hands to come at me?"

Chuckling, Arizona pulled back, "I was going with the feeling, sometimes it isn't always going to be convenient."

"They're your dishes, I'm not afraid of breaking them," Callie said, waving them slightly in her hands.

Arizona stuck out her bottom lip and pouted, "I only have socks on, you'd be willing to possibly cut up my feet?" she teased.

"I'd carry you over broken glass. You don't know that by now?" Callie put the plates down on the counter and scooped Arizona up in her arms. "I'd rather carry you than those plates anyway."

Laughter erupted from her as Arizona swatted at Callie's arms, "No, no! I cooked, warm delicious dinner is right there."

Callie headed for the bedroom. "I'm planning on warm and delicious. Dinner will reheat well later. We've got more pressing matters to attend to right now." Callie backed into the bedroom door to open it and tumbled into bed with Arizona.

The rumpled sheets betrayed Arizona's private clothesplosion, her room looked like a whirlwind had already tore through it, but she was sure it would soon seem like it had been hit by another cyclone of clothes soon. Searching fingers tugged on her ratty grey t-shirt emblazoned with a fighting yellowjacket. She wiggled and wriggled to try and help, but it twisted around her shoulders, causing her giggles to turn into warm laughter, "And here I thought I was going to be having more problems getting your entire uniform off of you."

"Did you sew yourself into this?" Callie asked as she tugged at the fabric. "It's like I'm drunk or something. Did you drug me?" She kneeled, sitting back onto her feet. "Sit up. You're making this impossible," she laughed.

Following Callie's instructions, Arizona sat up with one arm sticking straight up in the air and a tuft of soft blonde curls peeking out of the neck hole. "All I see is t-shirt." Waiting for any movement to help her with the cotton straight jacket, Arizona waved her free hand in the air as the other was pinned to her side, but her extraction seemed to be ceased, "Callie, are you distracted by something?"

"Huh? No," Callie said, looking up from Arizona's black bra and cleavage, she tugged her shirt over her head. "Freedom!"

"Freedom from one piece of clothing, there are many more to go," Arizona scooted forward on the bed and pulled on Callie's belt, in doing so she caused Callie to pitch forward, hovering over Arizona, "so let's not get cocky."

"And I have on steel toed boots. We might be here all night. All Night." Callie helped with her duty belt and pushed it across the bed.

Tugging her shirt out of her pants, Arizona smirked, "It's okay, you're like a Russian nesting doll, and there is a prize once I get to the center." Her tongue peeked out from between her teeth as she smiled widely, concentrating on each button as she worked her way up the shirt. Arizona's hands were imprisoned in between their two stomachs as Callie planted quick kisses along her collarbone, "Hey, hey, hey, I was making progress on the first layer."

Callie leaned back as Arizona finished unbuttoning her shirt and then pushed it off of her shoulders. It fell to the floor and Callie ripped at the velcro on her shoulder, then pulled her bulletproof vest over her head and down off of her other arm. It fell to the floor with a thump. "We should have eaten first," Callie giggled. "Maybe there's a protein bar in your nightstand."

Arizona winked at her, "I've been training for this," she pulled roughly on Callie's neck, bringing her down for a kiss, but her true motive was to work on the hair that was being restrained with pins and hair ties. A rumble reverberated through Arizona as she opened one eye to try and guide her handiwork, yet still focused on the lips she was kissing. She took pride in being a good multitasker.

Callie's hands ran up and down Arizona's sides as they kissed. She could feel her hair falling piece by piece as Arizona's dexterous hands swiftly took her hair down. She pressed her body into Arizona, who was beneath her, and rested on her elbows. Above Arizona's head, her duty belt lay on the bed. Callie reached one hand forward and grabbed for her handcuffs.

The ratcheting sound as they opened caused Arizona's hands to falter in Callie's hair. Her eyes opened and she laughed, "You're kidding me, right? I think we need all of our limbs in free movement range."

The cold metal snapped onto her wrist quickly and Arizona's mouth dropped open when she saw Callie close the other on her own, "Challenge accepted," dangled in the air as Arizona narrowed her eyes at her now semi-captive arm.

"You're going to get it for this, Calliope."

"I should have made this my left hand and your right hand," Callie said, looking at the cuff around her right wrist. "Some day I will learn to plan ahead."

Arizona pointed at the white tank top still hugging the curves of Callie's body, "And your solution for still having items of clothing on?"

Callie reached down, pulling Arizona's hand with hers and took the tank top off over her head. It slid down her arm and hung on the chain between their linked hands. "Cushioning," she shrugged, and pushed Arizona back down on the bed. She tucked the shirt between her head and the metal cuffs, their hands beneath her.

"Always thinking," Arizona snaked her free hand around Callie's back. Sliding down to her bra clasp, she quickly released it and worked it down the free left arm. She grinned up at Callie, "I needed more cushioning."

"You have one of your own, you know." Callie smirked at her. "But I don't mind making the sacrifice."

"Good. Now, come're," Arizona said as she crooked a finger at Callie.

Resting on one elbow, Callie leaned down toward Arizona, leaving a soft kiss on the tip of her nose before dipping lower and capturing her lips. Slowly she eased into the kisses changing the pressure, now more insistent as they both deepened the kiss. A sigh escaped from Arizona as Callie's hips shifted, slowly working her way in between Arizona's thighs.

Callie felt Arizona's hips rocking against her as she pressed herself into Arizona harder. Their breathing deepened, feeling each other's touch exhilarated them, satin skin and feather light caresses mingled with dynamic and powerful advances.

They shared the experience together, moving with each other, countering actions, choreographing their handcuffed arms together in a complicated and unrehearsed frolic in bed.

Arizona's hand slipped underneath herself as she unhooked her own bra and added it to the fabric pooling around her left shoulder. Her free hand slid along the curve of Callie's waist, out to her hip, and she grasped at the waistband, tugging insistently before slipping her fingers below.

She focused back at the assault on her neck that Callie was instigating. She seemed to be following her pulse points from behind her ear and working her way down, nipping at the base of her neck.

"Pants."

"Pants?" Callie questioned as she moved lower.

"Your pants."

"From what your hand is doing, apparently on its own, the pants are not the issue."

Arizona moved their joined arms together and pushed on Callie's shoulder, lifting her, "They are an issue, pants."

"My pants aren't going anywhere unless you want to spend fifteen minutes dealing with my boots." Topic of discussion closed, Callie went back to Arizona's neck and trailed down to her breasts.

Her eyes rolled back as Arizona tried to think around the fog of sensations Callie was now producing for her. She tried to form a coherent sentence, but succeeded in a string of vowel sounds instead.

Finding that she wasn't going to get much cooperation without taking the situation into her own hands, Arizona smoothly removed her right hand and pushed against the bed, causing her to flip Callie over onto her back. Grinning down at the dark hair spilling over her rumpled sheets, she stated again, "Pants, discussion re-opened."

Wiggling down Callie's legs, she placed her weight on her knees as she pulled at the button at her waist. Feeling some success, she leaned forward and caught the zipper in her mouth, pulling it down while keeping her eyes locked with the ones fully paying attention to her ministrations now.

Slowly edging her way back up Callie's body, Arizona smiled as she placed a kiss at the waistband of the offending garment. She dropped a few kisses back up to claim Callie's lips, taking her time to run along the edges of her bottom lip just before she dipped into her mouth.

Pulling back minutely, she breathed deeply for a moment. Speaking softly, her eyes level with Callie's, she questioned, "Are you going to help me now?"

"That was rather impressive. How did you not chip a tooth or something?"

"I will hurt you, Calliope." Arizona laughed with Callie.

She wiggled her hips and helped as Arizona pushed her pants down as far as she could, until they bunched up at the bottom of her legs and wouldn't make it over her shoes for complete removal. Callie was now restricted in movement in three of her limbs. Her only free hand was her left and it was fumbling to get Arizona out of her pants as well.

"Touché."

Arizona rolled slightly off of Callie and lifted her hips, tugging down at her yoga pants and cursing at the entire idea of spandex being stretchy, but yet somehow in this moment begrudging to move off of her. Finally divesting herself of the garment, she tried to ease back in between Callie's legs.

But they were bound together by her pant legs. "Argh! I hate these boots!" Callie shrieked as she rolled Arizona onto her back. "Your fault, we have to do it this way."

"Oh, darn." Arizona sighed, "I do hate variety." Her brows wrinkled, "Oh wait, no... it's the spice of life. I retract that statement."

Callie nipped at her neck, "Arizona?"

"Yeah..."

"Bite me," she narrowed her eyes at her, and wasn't at all surprised when Arizona actually bit her in response. Not what she meant, but Arizona did take orders very well.

Ever so slowly, Callie ran her hand along Arizona's side; ghosting it along her skin. Goosebumps rose in her wake and she teased at the edge of the black bikini bottoms.

Sliding her hand beneath them, she watched Arizona's body react to her touch through the strands of her own hair hanging in her eyes. She was beautiful under her, her flesh hot and reactive, her breath wet against her skin. Arizona reached up and pushed Callie's hair out of her face.

Arizona cupped her cheek before rising to steal a quick kiss; her own hand mirrored Callie's. They watched the hitches in breath and listened for murmured directions. They were united, two individuals moving as a unit, in part due to the handcuffs forcing their motions. "We've never been so connected," Callie whispered between breaths.

"We've never been handcuffed, Detective."

* * *

Arizona took a couple more deep breaths as she moved under the down comforter and glanced over at Callie, who also seemed spent. The moonlight peeked in through the window creating a pattern along her shoulders which were above the covers.

A lone feather moved above them, floating gracefully before it started to descend toward them. Arizona lightly blew at it, seeing it twist and twirl upwards like a whirligig.

Callie smiled at the simpleness of it, a single white feather floating above them in the darkened room. She gently blew it back in Arizona's direction. The feather took a sharp turn upward, then unpredictably drifted back toward her. She blew at it once again.

Arizona felt a finger drifting up and down her arm as they both watched the path of the feather swirl back at her. It dipped down fast and Arizona quickly sucked in a shallow breath, as to have time to continue the spell cast by the feather.

Instead, it got caught in the downdraft suction of her inhale and Callie watched as it hurtled toward Arizona's mouth, only to be sucked into her windpipe.

Before she could react, or register exactly what was happening, Arizona was sitting bolt upright, coughing severely... choking on a feather.

Callie burst into fits of laughter. She knew she should be trying to make sure that Arizona was okay, but the feather suddenly disappearing into Arizona's mouth was the most hilarious and unexpected thing she had ever seen.

Arizona coughed and fished the feather out of her mouth with her free hand. Her laughter exploded from her much like Callie's. The two of them were unable to catch their breath over the hilarity of the situation.

After a long laughing jag, Arizona looked over at Callie with a smirk, and pushed the dark strands of hair behind her ear, "Well even after that little amuse-bouche, I am thinking actual dinner is in order."

She scooted herself up into a sitting position, "Clothing is optional in the Robbins dining room," leaning down she captured a quick kiss, "although I'd like to get rid of these."

The jangle of the still attached handcuffs brought a mischievous grin to Callie's face.

"Yeah, about that..." Callie trailed off and lifted her eyes to Arizona.

Arizona's eyes widened, "Do not even tell me you do not have a key for these. Because I will..."

"No, no! I have a key. It's just... it's in the car. So if you want to take them off, I'm thinking that clothing is required and we both have to... you know... go to my car."

"I really wish that you would think these things through before you impulsively react to situations, you know." Arizona sighed.

Callie was already re-dressing with the clothes still hanging from their wrists.

"While you have most of your clothing still easily accessible, what do you want me to do?" Arizona huffed as she worked to refasten her bra.

Callie grinned, "I dunno, improvise. You have your whole wardrobe here."

"So a dress it is." Arizona rolled over Callie, waiting for her to follow so she could look in her closet. Pulling out a strapless sundress, she pulled it off the hanger and worked her way into it, "I'm hating this..."

Snuggling up behind her, Callie grinned, placing kisses on her shoulder, "Just think of the story you can tell Reese."

"This is between us, Calliope. I will not be telling anyone about it, and I would really appreciate it if you could not talk to Mark Sloan about this. Okay?"

"Sure," Callie said, wrapping her arm around Arizona's waist. Her hand followed Callie's behind her back and they headed for the door.

Opening the door, they both paused when they saw the trunk of Callie's car wide open, "Arizona do you keep a gun in the house?"

"Yeah, but it's not like either of us would be wholly effective in our state."

Callie held her hand and calmly stated, "Where is it?"

Nodding Arizona led them back inside and grabbed her lockbox from the front closet and got her Beretta 9mm out. She turned the safety off, "Alright, ready for approach."

"Give me the gun," Callie stated flatly.

Arizona scoffed, "My gun, my dominant hand, my shot," she faltered, "if needed."

"Fine, but don't go breaking any laws. You're practically already under arrest," Callie said and shook their linked hands.

The two of them slowly approached Callie's Thunderbird, but all was clear. They checked every inch of the car and some of the surrounding area together, and found nothing - including inside the trunk of Callie's car.

She sighed heavily and sat down on the bumper. "My duty weapon and duffle were in this trunk," Callie stated in a monotone. "The key was in my bag."

Arizona nodded, "I understand how upsetting this is and how it is now a pattern." She joined Callie on the bumper, "And how you may now have a justifiable reason to never come over again, but really, I just need you to not say that you're calling Mark."

"I don't think there are any other options at this point." Callie stared at the silver metal around her wrist and the links that joined her to Arizona, both physical and metaphorical. "I don't want to hurt you. Maybe we shouldn't see each other for a while?" Her inflection made it clear it was a question she was asking.

"Hey," Arizona slipped her fingers through Callie's and pulled their hands up to rest under her chin, "Sunny disposition or thunderstorms." She dropped a soft kiss on Callie's knuckles.

Callie shook her head, "This is different."

_We're weighed down in the here and now mostly by what has happened before and what is to happen. We're human, living in the now is a gift that we can't afford to keep going._

"I don't see a difference, Calliope," a soft smile, "besides, I still shoot better than you."

Looking at Arizona, she smiled tightly, "I care about you and there is a pattern in my casework right now and I can't have you in the crosshairs."

_Because stress will find us._

"Well," Arizona rolled her eyes back and forth in thought, "if you've had your car broken into twice here, then it stands to reason if you want to protect me, then it's better to be together."

"And at my place," Callie stated matter-of-factly. "Are you ready to bite the bullet?" she asked, holding her phone up. "Or would you rather spend every waking moment tied together like this?"

Arizona sighed, "Okay, but remind him about the cappuccino today."

_If we're wise with who we surround ourselves, there are those who will help us with the heavy lifting when the day to day becomes too much._

"What's happening here is far more important than a set of handcuffs, Captain." Callie tightened her grip on Arizona's hand. "I promise you, he will be a professional about this." Arizona raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "If he's not, I'll let you shoot him," Callie pressed the call button on her phone.

* * *

Dark eyes took in the scene of the two women before them. They sat on the bumper of a car, their body language speaking volumes. These eyes had spent a lifetime watching people, understanding what was being said with movements instead of words. People lied through words, they always lied. Truth was in action.

Both women were hiding something from each other, equal parts fear from both, but there was more on each end.

_We're all weighed down by something_.

Edging farther into the alley, the heavy work boots crunched along debris and the lithe body twirled a new trophy around a finger before clutching it. Actions always told the truth, but they were starting to tell it too well to this Detective. Something might need to change… and soon.

_Or someone._


	9. Episode Nine: Lost and Found

**Disclaimer:** We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on Grey's Anatomy which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably _Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Castle, Law and Order_ and _CSI_. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained.

**Ratings:** Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time or all in this episode.

**Feedback:** Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.

**Story Information:** This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters' lives, but not who they are as a person. Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, and Miranda Bailey work for the Seattle Police Department. Captain Arizona Robbins and Cristina Yang are paramedics. Lexie Grey is a crime scene technician. Crime, injuries, and death occur in their city as Callie and Arizona get to know one another on a more personal level.

**Episode Nine: Lost and Found**

Callie wrapped her arms around Arizona as they both stood in silence, looking into the empty trunk of her Thunderbird. The hard metal of the handcuffs dug into her wrist and that pain punctuated the anger that she currently felt. Her emotions had cycled pretty rapidly while waiting for Mark Sloan to arrive. First, concerns for their safety, followed by disbelief, shock, denial, blame, guilt, and now she was stuck on anger. Her one thread to humanity was holding Arizona in her arms.

_Things get lost all the time. Most are replaceable. A coat misplaced in carelessness, a ring that falls from a cold finger - maybe these items have sentimental value, but it's not as if these moments change lives. _

Leaning her head back onto Callie s shoulder, Arizona watched as the muscle in Callie's jaw clenched and released as if they were keeping time. "Callie," she softly sighed, the second syllable as if singing a lullaby to her girlfriend, "Callie? We're okay."

"Okay?" Callie huffed, My service weapon was in there, Arizona. Okay? No, soy un mont n de mierda."*

Arizona narrowed her eyes, "All I know is that you said shit, which I'm hoping was not directed at me."

"I've lost police equipment. Captain Bailey is going to hang me."

Arizona frowned as a deeply frustrated sound came from Callie, and she wondered how she could make things better. What slipped out did not seem to have her same intentions. "It's just a mistake, not a fireable offense. Technically, this is no one's fault."

_But not just things get lost. Sometimes in the fleeting, yet important moments, people can get lost, too. _

"If you didn't live in this area of town, then maybe we wouldn't be in this predicament." Callie bit back roughly.

Arizona pulled herself out of the circle of Callie's arms, "I understand that you're angry, but did you just blame me for this?" She laughed flatly, "I really," she cocked her head to the side, "just really?" Her shoulders bobbed up and down as mussed hair fell around them, "I mean, really, Callie?"

"I'm sorry." Callie threw her hands up in the air. "Okay? I just..." Grabbing her wrist, she rubbed at the raw areas that were chaffing from the metal. "WHERE THE HELL IS MARK?" she screamed. Faint echoes reverberated off of the apartment buildings around her.

"First of all," Arizona used her free hand to motion to the one that had just went on a ride with Callie's, "Ow, and second of all..." she trailed off and shook her head, "No there is no second of all, that hurt!"

Callie shielded herself as a fisted hand repeatedly hit her in the shoulder, seeking retribution.

"I'm going to arrest you for assaulting a police officer," Callie grabbed at Arizona's fist. "Stop. Stop it," a slight laugh and smile finally broke through.

Relenting, Arizona took a sigh that traveled down her whole body, "I'm already partially under arrest and really bad at interrogation, too." She grew more serious looking up at Callie through her eyelashes, "Do you really think they were casing you here?"

"It seems like a reasonable explanation," Callie replied. "I mean, it's not like it's just petty theft from a parking lot. These were specific items taken from me, both times, even when I had different cars. There's no way this was a coincidence." Callie shook her head. "I should have been more careful."

Scooting slowly in, Arizona rested her arms on Callie's hips, "And you think it's related to a specific case, huh?" Tilting her head, she looked up into the troubled brown eyes, "I'm okay with the dangers of the job. We wouldn't be in the fields we're in if I wasn't, but.." she smiled softly, "I can turn on Captain Robbins stateside if you need me to be another pair of eyes."

Arizona's grin widened and her cheeks showed the barest hint of dimples, "I hear that they are pretty lovely eyes. Some say stunning, even."

Callie brushed her thumb across Arizona's cheek. "Crystal blue. Very stunning," she smiled lightly. "I don't want you going all commando on me, but I think you should at least be on your guard. Just in case."

Her eyes ticked to the corner intersection where red and blue lights flashed purple hues on the buildings. "The Calvary," Callie nodded in the direction of the approaching police car.

Arizona hazarded a glance and winced, "He's going to make this terrible."

The Charger rolled up beside the two women and a tinted window slowly rolled down, the whirring noise seeming louder as each moment passed. When they finally saw Mark's face, his brow was furrowed, "This is getting to be a pattern, Torres. You re hurting beautiful cars."

"Mark."

His name was said as a warning, but came from inside the car, causing both women to lean down to peer into the passenger seat.

"Grey?" Callie asked, two emotions immediately combating her internally. She slipped her cuffed hand in Arizona's, partially trying to hide it. "I had no idea she was with him, she whispered to Arizona. With that, she gave Sloan a stern look. "What did I tell you?"

Raising his eyebrows hopefully, Mark answered, "That you were in a tight spot and needed help." He cleared his throat and mumbled the rest of his partner's request, "And to be discreet."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about, Mark."

Leaning over the equipment separating them, Lexie looked as if she had stubbed her toe, "I'm so sorry. We were just at dinner when-"

"Lexie." Mark warned before smiling first at his passenger and then back at the increasingly irritated women before him.

One of Callie's eyebrows slowly crept up her forehead as her lips pouted. "Dinner?" she asked, disapprovingly.

Mark ignored her comment and crossed his arm over himself. Unfastening the seat belt, he nodded at both women to step back. "So, I see the incident." He motioned to the Thunderbird, Have you called it in yet?"

"Not yet," Callie nodded. She pushed Sloan forward with her free hand until they were under cover behind her car. "We wanted to clear up something else first," she said, thrusting her arm forward and bringing Arizona's with it.

As soon as Arizona saw him open his mouth to speak, she blurted, "We don't want to talk about it."

Mark tried to suppress a grin and jutted his thumb back at the patrol car, "I'll be right back."

As he retreated towards the Charger to retrieve the key, Callie ran her hand reassuringly up and down Arizona's back, "At least Lexie doesn't have to," Arizona cut herself off, "No. No, why is Grey out of the car? Back! She should be back in the car!"

Callie pulled Arizona further away from the patrol car. "Calm down."

"I am calm. I don't get flustered. I'm a combat hardened soldier, Callie." Arizona narrowed her eyes. "And I do not want Lexie Grey here. It's bad enough we have ask Mark for help because of this situation."

Mark double timed it towards the women as he palmed the key to Callie, shielding the women as Lexie hustled to catch up to him, a slight blush forming on her cheeks.

"Hey," Lexie brushed at the bangs falling across her forehead, "I'm so sorry about this, Detective. If you want, I could call CSU and see who is on tonight. It might be Steve or Pierce hopefully it's Steve."

As Lexie spoke, Callie slipped the key behind her back and freed her hostage. Then she placed the handcuffs in her pocket. Too focused on her task, she had absolutely no idea what Lexie had just said. "Yeah, sure," Callie mumbled.

Arizona held her wrist in front of her and rubbed at the raw marks on it. It was red and marked and just slightly swollen. It was probably going to go over really well at work...

Mark turned back toward the women as Lexie wandered off chattering on her cell phone about blood patterns and crusty panties, to whom, he hoped was another CSI. He shook his head slowly back and forth, "I'm not saying a word, but I have no control over my dreams tonight, ladies."

"Thanks, Mark," Callie said with all the sincerity she could muster. "My duty duffle was stolen. Service firearm, keys, riot gear... all the most important stuff. They only things I still have are my badge and vest. I left the rest of it locked in my trunk."

"All I heard in there was 'mountains of paperwork', Torres." Mark shook his head. "This is horrible."

"You think Bailey's going to put me on desk duty?"

Mark replied immediately, trying to calm her fears, "No way. We're short staffed and this was nonnegligent." He sighed, "I'll help you with the paperwork though, so we can get back out on the streets."

"And I'll help with the damaged car work," Arizona piped up, more cheerful sounding than she looked.

Mark slowly ran his forefinger across his mustache, "You know a good shop in town? Cause I could use a good shop."

"Oh, no," Arizona smiled widely, "I'll work on it. Kinda a hobby of mine."

Lexie walked back to the car waving her phone. "Crime scene is on its way. Slow night."

"I doubt you're going to find anything." Callie's shoulders slumped forward.

"Buck up, kid," Sloan slapped her on the back. "If this is the guy we're trying to track down, there's got to be some clues around here somewhere." With that, Sloan wandered off into the parking lot and disappeared between two buildings.

Lexie turned to Callie and asked, "Does he do that a lot?"

"Investigation?" Callie questioned before turning on her heel and following Sloan's retreating form, "or being vague, but supportive?"

Arizona smiled at Lexie, "So, you are dating Mark?" She tilted her head and squinted at the girl.

"Oh, no, we just were at dinner with my sister and brother-in-law and he offered to give me a ride home in the patrol car and, her jaw opened and closed a couple times trying to find other words, "Do you think he thinks I want to date," Lexie rolled her eyes back and forth, "because that's-"

A soft hand patted Lexie's shoulder and Arizona pursed her lips for a moment, "Exactly what you want, huh?"

"I mean, I don't want him to know that because he seems like the kind of guy that once he catches the girl he's after, then he's pretty much over it. Thrill of the chase and all. But I'm kinda forbidden fruit because I overhead Derek tell Mark that. Like I need to be protected from the big, bad, sexy Mark Sloan!" Lexie took a breath and blinked at Arizona. "Oh, God, I didn't mean to unload all of that on you."

Arizona shrugged, "It's okay," she threw a glance over her shoulder before looking back at Lexie, who was now fiddling with her auburn hair, trying to get it up and in a ponytail, "You remind me a bit of myself, when I was younger."

"How much younger?" Lexie fired back curiously.

Shaking her head, Arizona smiled brightly at her, "I don't think you want to know that, Lexie."

"Super young, huh?"

"Super."

* * *

When Callie caught up to Mark, he was bent at the knees, looking at a patch of dirt. "Does this look disturbed to you?"

"It looks like mud, Mark."

"Har har, Torres," Sloan leaned forward resting his arms on his knees. "I think this was the point of entry and to make matters spookier," he paused and gazed back towards the buzzing streetlamps.

Callie followed his eye line and a breath caught in her throat, "The alley gives a clear shot of Arizona's apartment, the bastard has been watching her place."

"Nah," Mark slowly stood and placed a calming hand on her shoulder, "The perp was watching for you."

"Thanks, that's more comforting," she replied sarcastically. Looking around, she couldn't find any useful traces of their mystery suspect. "No cigarettes. Non-smoker. No trash. No foot prints, even with all the mud..."

Sloan pointed at a spot against the wall with a bit of cover from landscaping, "There's a small depression here, and it looks like a bunch of linear marks. Maybe made with the toe of a shoe or a stick or something?"

"Professional?" Callie asked, even though she didn't think someone would pay for unrelated hits on drunks needing justice.

Mark tilted his head in thought, "Or very meticulous. Obviously knowledgeable of police protocol and procedure." He scratched his chin for a moment, the rough noise scraping through the dead quiet in the alley. "Perhaps of crime scene protocol, too."

"So more intelligent than our average criminal." Callie nodded, "If this is the same guy that stole the files, then why come back to a different car of mine and break into it again? The risk of exposure, of getting caught is too high, right?"

"The gain outweighs the risk, Torres," Mark said thoughtfully.

"So what's there to gain from stealing department issued gear?" Callie still didn't understand.

"Maybe it gets you off the streets. Or off the case. Or they really needed some riot gear, a handcuff key, and a police handgun." The last scenario hung in the air like thick fog between them.

* * *

Callie squinted her eyes as she stood at attention in Captain Bailey's office. She was aware that there were two giant stacks of paperwork on her desk that had to be cleared by end of shift, before they switched to the night rotation again, but the amount of yelling that was reverberating through the room made those two mountains seem like mole hills.

And it even made that colloquialism make sense.

"Now, just now Torres _you_ decide it would be a good time to let your car get ripped into and have your weapon stolen, your gear, and your dignity."

Bailey inched closer to the Detective as she threw her shoulders back, "Oh wait, no that was me taking your dignity."

"Captain, in all fairness," Mark interrupted, "Detective Torres followed protocol for securing gear outside of the department."

"Did you?" Bailey turned quickly on Sloan and raised her finger at him, "Did you interrupt me, Sloan?"

"Ma'am I'm just pointing out-" a finger jammed itself in his ribs.

"Did you," the Captain enunciated every word, "interrupt me, Sloan?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Sloan stood straighter and pushed his shoulders back. He had nothing to do with this incident, but was standing in solidarity with his partner, taking the Captain's lashings with her.

"Is this how you two act after I praise you in front of your whole squad?" Bailey asked, rhetorically. "Maybe you didn't deserve it. Maybe you need me to yell at you every day. Is that what you need, Detectives?"

Callie slowly moved her gaze downward to see the defiant stare at her and cleared her throat before continuing, "Ma'am I agree with you and fully expect to be punished for the loss of my weapon. All I respectfully request is to continue working this case instead of it being kicked down the chain and boxed away. I believe that this incident is tied to our uncleared cases that we presented to you earlier."

A noise emitted from Bailey that the partners could not identify as pleased or annoyed, so they merely waited.

Nodding her head, the Captain pointed to her door, "Request granted, Torres."

Surprise washed over both of the detectives faces. They stood stock still as Bailey rounded her desk. Pulling out her chair, she waved her hand towards Mark, "And Sloan, that's how you interrupt your Captain, not your pussy footing way."

"Ma'am, I don't believe-"

She cut him off again as she sat down in her chair and pointed to the door, "Pussy. Footing."

Callie exited the Captain's office before another wave of reprimands hit, and Sloan followed suit.

"Let's head down to supply and get another pistol, Torres. We've got work to do." Mark squeezed her shoulder.

"Well that was demoralizing," Callie deadpanned.

"That?" Mark asked. "C'mon, that was nothing."

Smiling, Callie shook her head. "Someday I'd love to see your personnel file, Sloan."

"Oh, it's legendary, Torres."

* * *

Arizona walked through the tightly packed cars and called over her shoulder, "Yang are you keeping up or is the vigorous walking too much for you?"

Tapping lightly on the side of her sunglasses, Cristina groaned, "I have no clue how you drug me out to this car graveyard, but you owe me more than brunch now."

Watching as Cristina rolled her shoulders uncomfortably, like she was working out a kink in her muscles, Arizona smiled and waved her over, "It won't be much longer. I just have to get some pieces to give Callie as a, 'Yay, I'm fixing your baby' present tonight."

"Parts? You're giving her parts of a car?" Yang shook her head, "You two are so weird."

"It's kind of a long story," Arizona said, waving her hand.

"Oh, yikes. What did you do?" Cristina asked, grabbing at Arizona s wrist. "This looks painful. You want me to wrap it for you?"

"Oh," Arizona pulled her hand away. "No, I'm fine." She took a breath and then said, "Actually, it's part of the long story."

Cristina stopped walking and Arizona with her. Looking Arizona straight in the eye, she said flatly, "Make it short."

"Okay," Arizona decided to plow through it quickly, "Dinner with Callie turned into bedtime with Callie which involved handcuffs, which was..." she paused thinking for a moment, "fun, but then the key was in her car and then her car had been broken into and the key and more was gone."

Cristina winced, "Not your best day ever, then."

"No." Arizona shook her head quickly. "And since there wasn't a key, Callie had to call Mark and he showed up with Lexie Grey, that crime scene girl, and that was really embarrassing."

With that, Cristina started giggling. "You had to call Mark Sloan to uncuff you from your girl friend. And the cuffs tore up your wrist that badly?"

"It's not like they were fur-lined or anything! They were Callie's police gear!"

"Listen," Yang put her arm over Arizona's shoulder, and shook her lightly. "Next time you get in a jamb, and Callie wants to call Mark, you call me instead. We're practically partners, and I'm far less embarrassing."

"I didn't think you'd be able to help with my handcuff key problem," Arizona said truthfully, "or I totally would have called you."

"You underestimate me, Robbins!" Yang fished under her collar and pulled out a silver chained necklace. On the end of it, a small silver handcuff key was dangling.

Her eyes grew wider and Arizona's mouth dropped, "It's like you're the Girl Scout I've been missing all my life."

They both tilted their heads at each other for a moment and then Arizona sucked in a breath through her teeth wincing, "I'm not sure why I went to the Girl Scout place."

Yang laughed, "Because you always wanted more than cookies growing up?"

"Cristina!"

The scolding did nothing to stop her as she giggled, sliding the key back and forth on the chain, "Yeah, I'd like Samoa those coconuts."

"Ha..." Arizona rolled her eyes. "What are you even doing with a handcuff key, anyway?"

Cristina shrugged. "You never know what might happen."

* * *

She shuffled her weight back and forth, waiting for Callie to get to the door. Her shoulder dropped and the olive green duffel bag slipped down to the concrete steps. Arizona stretched her neck, rolling it slightly and trying to remember that she agreed to this because Callie asked. It may have been a demanding tone and she may be able to take care of herself, but relationships were about give and take.

The sound of metal scraping alerted her to the door sliding back and revealing an expected smile.

"Hey."

Arizona leaned down, grabbing at the duffel, "Hey, yourself." She groaned slightly, hefting the bag back up. "Can I come in?"

"You don't need to ask that. You were invited..." Callie paused in thought before altering her statement, "Rather demanded to be here. I'm sorry about that." She lifted Arizona's bag from her shoulder and set it on the floor. "I've been kinda crazy recently." Her brow furrowed and lips downturned in apology.

Walking further into the apartment, Arizona shook her head lightly, "There were crazy circumstances." A smile ghosted across her face as she turned, facing Callie, "But, apology accepted."

Callie pulled Arizona forcefully into her arms, not giving her a chance to resist if she had wanted to, and hugged her fiercely. Into her neck, she whispered, "Just being here for me means a lot." For some reason, the words came out more easily when she didn't have to look into Arizona's eyes.

Arizona ran her hand lightly over Callie's hair, before smoothing her palm up and down her back. "I know, and now we don't have to have an awkward key exchange talk."

She felt the puffs of air from Callie's laughter moving her hair slightly, "See, you just know that you have to give me a key, she said, dropping a kiss quickly on the side of Callie's head.

"It's not for forever." Callie pulled back and smiled weakly. "We'll make the best of it!"

Arizona watched as Callie headed off into the kitchen and started rummaging through a drawer. "Like a slumber party?" she asked.

Callie glanced up at her as she leaned on the entryway to the kitchen, "Exactly like a slumber party, Arizona."

"You know," Arizona paused, her hand sliding across the back of the couch, "I never actually had those growing up. I mean, my brother and I would pitch a tent out back and camp, but I never got to go to a slumber party."

"I had slumber parties every other weekend with my sister. It's hard to imagine not having that growing up. So, no painting nails and braiding each other's hair and staying up all night telling your secrets? Callie turned a silver key over in her hand.

Arizona shook her head vehemently, "Oh no, of course we did. The advantage of being the older sister is that you get to choose games and Shear Madness," she made a quick cutting motion with her fingers, "was one of our favorites."

Taking in the raised eyebrow from Callie she merely shrugged, "I had the prettiest brother in all of Georgia." A wide grin broke out over Arizona's face as she laughed deeply.

Callie handed her spare key to Arizona. "I like it when you smile and talk about him."

Pulling out her key chain, Arizona nodded, "Me too."

She wiggled the key into the opening trying to maneuver it onto its new home. The key ring refused to budge for the new intruder and slipped out of Arizona's hand, clanging onto the kitchen tile. "I don't understand why putting a key onto a key ring is so difficult."

Callie placed her hands over Arizona's and slipped the keys from her fingers. "Let me do it. Why don't you go settle in?"

"Mmm," Arizona leaned in for a kiss, "Will do."

Arizona's eyes came to rest on the duffel sitting in the vestibule with her rank and name staring back at her. She swallowed deeply trying to shake off the feeling of life being a short break of leave in between bouts of sandstorms. The clothes she wore were not a uniform, she was not in the service anymore and the duffel was just the best way to bring everything from her house in one trip.

Logic. Reason.

Part of her brain got all that, but the image of the large black stitched name brought out feelings that felt like an enemy.

"I'm not leaving. I'm here." Arizona whispered to herself lightly.

Callie followed Arizona into the bedroom and put her keys on the nightstand. "It's on there."

Kicking off her shoes, she lay down in bed and watched Arizona unpack her belongings. "That military stuff never leaves you, does it?" she asked, pointing to her neatly rolled clothing.

Arizona pulled out a bright pink roll and flicked her wrists revealing a cute sundress, "No, raised in it. Educated in it. Chose it. The only reason I didn't get a Corps tattoo after I got commission is I didn't need to; I bleed Marine."

The light scrape of the hangers moving helped to keep Arizona focused on the task at hand.

"You were going to get a tattoo?"

She glanced over her shoulder and turned back to find Callie, who was propped up on a pillow looking like a teenager getting ready to hear the juicy gossip, so she obliged. "It was tradition. Bar, booze, and ink. I just did the first two."

"There's this woman on the force that has her glock tattooed on her hip," Callie remarked offhandedly. "I'm kinda glad you didn't get a tattoo. I like you," Callie moved her hands in a curvy woman-shaped fashion, "unspoiled."

Arizona rolled her eyes, "I'm not unspoiled, Calliope." She bent down pulling out her work boots from the bottom of the bag, "Just not in the same way as your woman on the force." She raised an eyebrow as her lips pushed out in an unasked question.

"Locker room. Not my type. Clearly." She rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant. We all have our own personal demons, right?"

She cleared her throat and edged towards the bed, "War wounds, yeah." Arizona blew out a breath of air and opened her mouth, her eyes squinting as if blinded by a bright ray of sunlight before settling down on the bed. "So, what's yours?"

"You make it sound like there is only one, Captain Robbins." Callie pulled her into her arms and nestled in next to her neck. "You smell good," she whispered as she smiled.

"You're changing the subject?"

Callie cracked an eye open and looked into the inquisitive eyes bearing down on her, "No, I'm stating that you smell good, because you smell good." Arizona continued to look at her so she sighed, "What do you want me to say?"

"Enlighten me." Arizona softly prodded.

"What if it's too early to show all of my cards? What if you get up and leave me here because I'm either too boring or too crazy? What if by not answering this question, you figure out that I have major abandonment issues and I'm really scared about the future of this relationship because you've never settled into one place in your whole entire lifetime? What if you hate that I talked about the future of this relationship?" Callie took a breath and then stopped talking, fearing she'd already said way too much.

Arizona's eyes widened for a moment before dropping a kiss on Callie's forehead, "First, I hope you know that I'm proud of you not holding back because honesty is so refreshing. I held back for my whole career in the Corps."

Another kiss was dropped slowly on Callie's cheek as Arizona pulled back turning slightly in her hold, "Second, I'm scared too. I don't know how relationships really work. I'm going off of doing the opposite of what I used to do," her eyes fluttered shut, "which was one night stands or girls in different ports." Her eyes caught Callie's; glistening from unshed tears, "I'm not proud of my past, but I like thinking about a future with you."

She chuckled, "And trust me, as a child of a father that was only home until the next order out, I get abandonment."

"I'm going to gloss over the one night stands and girl in different ports bit because I don't like to talk about past relationships, but for your own knowledge, my last two breakups were really hard. Both left me rather unexpectedly. The first of those was my husband." Callie winced and shut her eyes as tight as possible, waiting for a reaction.

"Oh." Arizona's mouth stayed open for a moment and cocked her head, "I'm sorry, that must have been rough." She laced her fingers into Callie's hand to try and reassure her that knowing of a previous husband was not going to make her bolt for the door.

Callie sighed with relief and fell back against the bed. "I had no idea how you'd react to that. But, you know, when's a good time to bring up that you used to be married and he cheated on you with some skinny blond girl who he was probably in love with when he married you in the first place?"

Leaning back, Arizona snuggled up next to Callie, spooning her side. "I wouldn't know," she teased. Her right hand played with the hair fanned across the comforter and she took a couple of deep breaths, "My brother deferred his furlough hoping to shorten his tour."

She knew she was switching subjects abruptly, but she needed to get it out. Callie's eyes searched her face, but instead Arizona focused on the hair slipping through her fingers slowly as she brushed through them, "He deferred because I suggested it. When he should have been home on leave, that's when he-" she stopped and swallowed, "He was on transport from Camp Leatherneck, just routine, and they hit an IED."

The strands of hair slid through her fingers like water, no, like spindles of black oil. "I've been living years in a land of what ifs."

"You know, I've found it gets you nowhere," Callie laced her fingers in Arizona's. "I know that doesn't help you. And I hate it when people spout off those clich s like, it was meant to be , or God only gives you what you can handle. But I know that holding on to all of this, not talking about it, worrying over things you can t change... it changes us. Slowly. Day after day." Callie ran her thumb across Arizona's cheek. "And you know what? I don't want to lose any more of myself. And I don't want to lose any more of you."

Arizona turned her face slowly, leaving a light trail of kisses across Callie's palm before facing her again, "Who said anything about losing me?" She smiled, dimples peeking through for a brief appearance. Her shoulders rose as she took in a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before the blue gaze sought out Callie's. "I'm right here."

Callie stretched out her arms and Arizona coiled herself into them. "I love that about you," Callie said, holding back the words she really meant. Having Arizona in her arms, in her bed, felt right. But after her previous relationship disasters, she knew that jumping in too quickly was a big mistake. Still, she had trouble holding back sometimes.

She felt Arizona scoot in closer towards her, spooning against her side as she lay on the bed, all tension of the day a distant memory. A leg was lazily tossed over her own as Arizona burrowed in closer, she felt a warm laugh bubble out of her. She had found a cuddler and she loved every moment of it.

Arizona spoke softly, the breath tickling the edge of Callie's ear as goosebumps spread down her neck, "I love that I can be with you here and in public. It's so..." she paused trying to find the right word.

"Good?" Callie supplied in question.

"No," Arizona shook her head, dipping her chin into the crook of Callie's shoulder, "better than good. It just feels "

Callie looked down her nose and raised her eyebrows as Arizona worked through her thoughts slowly. A slight blush started to creep down from Arizona's cheeks and Callie reached out with a finger, lifting her gaze up to her as she questioned again, "Awesome?"

Squinted eyes and a pursed mouth answered her for a brief moment before a wide grin spread over Arizona's face. She found her word, "It makes me feel whole."

"Yes," Callie nodded. "I don't feel like I'm going to fall to pieces anymore. And there is no gaping hole wanting to be filled. Because of you." She leaned down, her lips meeting Arizona's. After a few magnificent moments, Callie pulled away. She immediately missed the heat of Arizona's mouth, but pressed forward heedlessly. She had to get this out, and had been working up to it for a few days. Timing never seemed prefect enough, but she finally decided that it was now or never.

"I want to show you off. Really. Take you out and show off every bit of you, and let the world know that we're together. Me and you. Because won't everyone be impressed that you're somehow with me?"

"Oh really," Arizona teased. The brilliant smile that greeted her made Callie grin back like a fool herself. "So I get to show you off too, right?" Leaning in Arizona captured her lips, dropping a quick kiss before pulling back, her eyes closing slightly in thought, "Although, you're right, I am a pretty amazing catch."

"There's this thing..." Callie paused and took a deep breath. "Man, why is this so hard?"

"You sound like my first prom date, Callie." Arizona gripped Callie's hands tightly.

"Yes," Callie nodded. "It's like prom. Will you go to prom with me?"

Arizona laughed, "I would love to go to prom with you, Calliope." She waggled her eyebrows playfully at Callie, "If you can get a hotel room you might get lucky."

"Only if you sneak in a flask and spike the punch." Callie smiled, a weight lifted from her. "I don't know why I was so scared to ask. I guess I just didn't know how public you wanted to be with... us." Suddenly giddy, Callie gushed, "This is going to be so much fun! I haven't gone to the Policemen's Ball since joining the force. I've always wanted to go!"

"Oh, oh," Arizona held her hands up in shock, "Please tell me you don't have to dress up in police garb." Her face crumpled in disappointment for a moment before taking in Callie's face, which was a mix of emotions that she hadn't seen before. "Not that the police wear isn't hot. I mean, it's ridiculously hot." Arizona backpedaled quickly, "Very hot. Yay!"

Callie burst out in laughter. "God no. We're going to be pretty. Girly. Fancy." She cupped Arizona s face in her right palm. "I'm going to look like a princess." Her hand trailed down to Arizona's chest, and she pointed a finger into her sternum. "And you're going to be the hot woman in the room every officer wants to be with." And for good measure she threw in, "With cleavage."

"Cleavage?" Arizona countered as she tried to keep the smirk off her face, "If this is a request, can I say..." her grin broke across her face like the Cheshire cat, "party of two?"

"More like party of four," Callie giggled, pressing her body into Arizona's and rolling over her on the bed.

Her hair created a curtain around Arizona's face as Callie leaned over her, eyes searching her as she saw tears pooling in Arizona's eyes. "Hey, are you okay?"

With a small sniffle Arizona nodded, wiping at her eyes, "Yeah, I just get to go to a big social thing with the woman I want to be with. It feels freeing."

"You know what else feels like that?" Callie cocked her eyebrows as she dropped a kiss along the tear track on Arizona's cheek.

"I have a feeling you're going to tell me," Arizona said in a husky voice as she overcame her brief bout of tears.

Callie moved to Arizona's neck, kissing near her earlobe and down to her collarbone. Between these kisses, the words flowed, "I'm... not... going... to... tell... you... I'm... going... to... show... you."

* * *

_Memories. The sense memory tied up in objects we cling to, fumble with, lose, and sometimes find again change over time. The feel of fabric as it slips over your skin. The sound of a music box opening, filling the room with a tune long forgotten, but instantly remembered. The smell of a perfume. The taste of food that takes us back to a place that is a figment._

The door roughly bounced shut as Cristina lumbered toward the only person still there. She nodded in a sort of silent language and he nodded back. The amber liquid slowly filled the highball as Joe snapped the neck of the bottle up, and a dribble fell over the glass rim. She ran her finger along its side, sweeping up the liquid, bringing it to her mouth. The smell of the liquor hit her as her eyes shut tightly. Her tongue poked out, licking at the remnants, feeling the warmth build on the tip of her tongue.

_The objects that we hold dear to us can change over time. Meaning that is held within them lessening as time puts distance between us and them. Some of them lose meaning all together, while others take their place and mean something more. _

Her thumb slipped under her collar, finding the key dangling on the necklace and listened as it grated back and forth across the chain. Joe looked at her for a long moment before turning back to the bottles, organizing for choir practice attendees that would start filing through soon enough.

The weight of her front pocket cut into her side as she dug down, retrieving the small discs and let them clang loudly on the bar top. Yang pushed several metal tokens around on the bar, lining them up, one by one. They appeared to be foreign currency, except to specifically chosen individuals that shouldn't be in a bar anyway. The first had a inscription that read, "One day at a time," and the second, "Rarely have we seen a person fail." Cristina picked up the middle coin and spun it. As she watched it quickly turn like a top on the counter, she swirled the liquor in her glass. When it fell, the face of the token read, "Unity, Service, Recovery, 6 months."

As it rattled to silence on the wood, Yang swallowed a mouthful of whiskey.

_But with the new meaning does the object give us a new found sense of self? A rebirth of self. Or are we consumed by it, lost to anything but what we turn in our hands, feeling with senses only._

"Another, Joe." Her fingers rapped along the wood, bringing out the hollow sound along the boards.

He turned back, drying off pint glasses from the sink, "You haven't even finished-"

She cut him off with a finger in the air, "Another."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

**Translation** * No, I'm in a mountain of shit."

We'd like to thank everyone for the reviews and PMs of theories on the whodunnit portion. Keep the guesses coming in PMs, otherwise try to leave the reviews vague in case someone reads them before starting in on the mystery portion. Thank you for all the favorites and alerts it's nice knowing you're out there. 


	10. Episode Ten: Bang Bang

**Disclaimer: **We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on _Grey's Anatomy_ which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably _Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Castle, Law and Order_ and _CSI_. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained.

**Ratings:** Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time or all in this episode.

**Feedback:** Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.

**Story Information:** This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters' lives, but not who they are as a person. Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, and Miranda Bailey work for the Seattle Police Department. Captain Arizona Robbins and Cristina Yang are paramedics. Lexie Grey is a crime scene technician. Crime, injuries, and death occur in their city as Callie and Arizona get to know one another on a more personal level.

**Episode Ten: Bang Bang  
**

_Conflict has existed since the beginning of time. You could even say that the beginning of time was rather violent. According to the big bang, an extremely hot, dense, rapidly expanding state is what first created the universe. And there has been hostility ever since._

Arizona tugged her motorcycle jacket on over her shoulders as she quickly walked through the hallways of KING 5 studios. Her hair was slightly damp from the beginnings of a downpour that, as the chirpy weather woman had announced, would only get heavier as the day wore on.

"But you understand what I'm saying, right, Arizona? She moved directly into my camera space." The clicking of heels that had to have cost more than her monthly take home pay followed her at a double time clip.

She couldn't get away from her or the conversation she didn't want to be in, "I don't think it was intentional, Addison."

Before she knew it, a hand curved around her shoulder and pulled her to a stop, "Oh, she did it on purpose. Teddy is just goading me on air. Did you hear her opening and closing bites today?"

Arizona nodded as she tried to stay out of the feud between the morning co-anchors. "Yeah, but I mean, you have to get the numbers up, right?"

"KING 5, The women you want to wake up with?" Addison jutted out her hip, the pencil line skirt accentuating her form.

Arizona's tongue darted out, wetting her lips as she tried to think of something to neutralize the spitfire in front of her, "It was creative?"

Snorting, Addison rolled her eyes in defeat, "Fine, but the sign off: For more T and A, check back tomorrow."

"Teddy and Addison," Arizona waved her hands. "That's all she meant by it."

"My ass..." Addison pouted and Arizona stifled a laugh. "I am trying to be a professional woman. Do you know how hard it is to be a woman in this field and be taken seriously?"

Arizona smiled weakly and rubbed Addison's shoulder. "Just relax. She's playing an angle. You know that sex sells and if it bleeds, it leads. She's only following the very formula the media projects. Besides, I wouldn't mind waking up with either one of you in the morning... you know, if I kept normal hours."

A lopsided grin moved across Addison's face as she narrowed her eyes, "If I didn't know you had a girlfriend already, I'd think you were hitting on me." She paused in thought for a moment, "Actually, I'm going to take that as you hitting on me. I need some spring in my step." Quickly leaning forward, a kiss was dropped on Arizona's cheek. Pulling back, she winced, slightly rubbing at the bright red lipstick mark.

Wearily, Arizona yelled after Addison in her retreat, "Glad I could help." Then she took off toward the parking garage, mumbling under her breath, "I've gotta get out of this place."

As she entered the stairwell, her phone rang. Caller ID told her it was Callie, and she quickly answered.

"I saw you on the traffic report this morning," Callie's voice chirped to her through the handset speaker, in lieu of a greeting.

"You did?" Arizona's voice warmed in surprise, "I thought you were still working."

"Oh," Callie hated to be the one to disappoint, "I am. The television in the break room was on. There were some guys that liked the morning eye candy, and with that bridge jumper story, one of the newbies wanted to see himself on television. So, I got a glimpse of you. They're right, great eye candy. You're hot in that helicopter, Captain."

A disgruntled breath pushed out of Arizona, as she saw that in the hour it took to wrap up flight check, work her way through the station, and get to the garage, that the rain was now more aggressive. Instead of the weather, she focused back on Callie, "I didn't even get to wear my new aviators this morning with the clouds, and next to the rest of the women I…" she stopped herself briefly and nodded, "Am hot. I am so hot, in fact, that I might be too famous for you."

"Sydney Sullivan won't go out with a lowly police detective? That's okay. I'm much more interested in Captain Arizona Robbins. Naked. In my apartment. What time do you think she'll be there? Because I get off in..." Callie looked at her watch, "about twenty minutes."

"Oh, do you?" Arizona's voice lilted playfully. "Because I actually was planning on being dirty when you got home." She pushed through the door of the station, happy to be in the small parking garage today, "So dirty that I just might need a long, hot shower."

"Torres, hang up the phone," Arizona heard Mark faintly in the background.

"Hang on," Callie said into the phone. "Mark, shut up. This is important."

Arizona heard some muffled talking, some static on the line, and then Callie's voice telling her that there was a change in plans.

Tugging her helmet off of the handle bar of her bike, Arizona nodded, "Okay, but I'll still be needing a shower when you get home. I'm going to fix your Thunderbird; get it flying again." She paused for a moment, realizing that even though she was used to Callie's line of work being dangerous, it still brought some anxiety over her well-being, "Be safe. I'll see you at home."

"I like the sound of that," Callie smiled and hung up her phone. "What, Mark? What?" she yelled at him impatiently as soon as Arizona was off of the line.

"Please be advised, I have a 911 caller reporting a shooting and possible dead male at North 2nd Avenue and Roy Street. This is a code one emergency and possible ten-eighty-one. I need a nearest location on all available units. What's your twenty?"

* * *

Lexie walked closer to the radio as she heard cross streets that were all too familiar to her. Blowing lightly on her tea cup, she mindlessly let the bag dip in and out of the water. She was never good at steeping, she forever needed to be moving, somehow nervous energy always escaped out of her. Her mother said she reminded her of a hyper Yorkshire terrier, yipping loudly.

"Dispatch, this is 359 and 416. We are heading south on Elliott Ave, coming up on Mercer. We're ten-seventy-six, two minutes out. Did the caller give a number on the address, or are we looking at the street?"

"359, please be advised the address we have is 701 North 2nd Avenue. EMS unit has been dispatched."

Lexie dropped her tea in shock, hot liquid splashing over her cargo work pants and pooling onto the floor at her feet. A moment later, she was rushing out of the front door and into her personal vehicle, fumbling with first her keys, then the door and seat belt. In a blur, mindlessly, she floored the car out of the parking lot, the back end fishtailing as it entered the wet road.

701 North 2nd Avenue. Possible ten-eighty-one. Mark's voice responding to the call. Her brain started putting the pieces together for her as she raced down the street. She was the ten-eighty-one: Department member's family is involved. Shooting. Possible dead male. At her father's house.

The Kia Sportage's breaks squealed as she rounded the corner onto 2nd avenue. The rain, steady as she left the CSU department, was now coming in stronger waves. She pulled up to the curb and took a deep breath. The lights to the ambulance were not running. Two forms stood under the awning of the front porch, looking out onto the street.

There had to be reasons that the ambulance was still at the scene. Maybe the bullet grazed by and was just a flesh wound. Her father probably refused the ride for the benefit of the taxpayer. He always liked to get in a dig about taking services when they were not needed.

Reasonable explanations, they had to be there, because otherwise it meant something different entirely.

A small beat up truck was in the driveway and she recoiled at the sight, understanding that Danielle, her father's new 'girlfriend' was there as well.

"Fantastic," Lexie grumbled to herself, focusing on the annoyance that the relationship her father had with this new woman, who was a tattooed version of Malibu Barbie, nestled into her life. "Okay Lex, let's get in and fix this."

She took a moment to steady herself and then stepped out of her car, into the rain. Crossing her arms, she walked quickly across the front lawn, toward the front porch steps. As she approached, the people before her took on more familiar shapes.

When he realized that she was nearing the house, and hadn't arrived with a department vehicle, Mark Sloan met her in the front yard. As the rain fell on both of them, he took in her worried expression and wasn't sure how to break the news. But, she was already here, so he realized that she probably already feared the worst.

Without a word, he slipped off his department issued jacket and slipped it over her shoulders to try to protect her from the rain. There was no protecting her from what she would see inside.

"Lexie," the tone of voice that Callie was using with her as she stepped forward already made the blood in her veins freeze. She felt Mark's hands running up and down her back before he tugged the coat tighter around her, popping the collar to protect her exposed neck from the weather.

"Can you call Meredith? Or, is there anyone that you need to be here?" Callie's questions fell on deaf ears as Lexie looked passed her, at the bottle blonde wiping at the tears falling down her face, mascara trails cutting through her caked on makeup.

"Where is my father?"

Mark cleared his throat and dipped his head down, trying to get Lexie's eyes back to his face, "Lexie, it appears that there has been a shooting."

"Don't try to sugar coat this, Mark. I heard dispatch. I heard the call," Lexie said, trembling. "Is he alive?"

Mark stood in silence. Lexie's question was unanswered until Callie stepped in. "I'm sorry, Lexie," Callie said. Before she could say anything further, Lexie was already running for the door, past her father's sobbing girlfriend, and into the house. Mark sprinted after her to try to contain the crime scene.

But Lexie was too professional to get in the way. Two emergency medical technicians were leaving as she arrived. Her father had obviously been dead on their arrival, and the medical examiner was being called in.

"Oh, God," Lexie whispered to herself. "Meredith."

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she stifled a sob. Her watery eyes leveled on Mark, "What happened?"

"The girlfriend, Danielle, said that she had been out late with friends in from high school, came home, and found him like this... she called 911 and until we find out more from the ME, then…" he laid a hand softly on her shoulder, "I'm sorry. Lexie."

"We was shot?" Lexie's body began to shake visibly, and Mark ushered her to a stiff back wooden chair and made her sit down. "Why would anyone shoot him?"

"Did he have any enemies? Disgruntled co-workers, employees, acquaintances?" Mark asked her calmly, in quiet tones. He wanted to be able to solve Thatcher Grey's case quickly, but he knew Lexie's dad's history all too well. Catching Callie's eye, he flashed her a look that spoke volumes to her.

"Lexie, was your father an alcoholic?" she asked, already fearing the answer.

Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment in confusion, "What do you mean?" Lexie glanced back and forth between Callie and Sloan. "My father was an alcoholic, but he was going to AA," she gestured to the now sobbing girl curled up on the love seat, "He met Danielle there, even. He was sober. Why is this even relevant to anything?"

Callie lowered her head. The serial attacks were getting more frequent. The killer was escalating and it was up to her and Sloan to stop him. Without answering any of Lexie's questions, Callie headed toward Danielle for questioning.

"Excuse me, Danielle?" Callie questioned warmly.

The young woman with dirty blonde hair sniffled loudly and wiped at her eyes. Callie looked at the tear tracks running down Danielle's cheeks, cutting through the mascara and foundation. The tears seemed to be washing away all remnants of the evening out that the girlfriend had told them through sobs for the medics on scene.

She pulled her legs up underneath her, forming a sort of fetal position; a lot of loved ones would take on this posture when finding a body. Trying to comfort themselves, as their loved one could no longer do so.

Callie kindly smiled, "I just want to clarify a few things with you, if that's okay?"

Danielle nodded brushing her side swept bangs back behind her ear, "Sure," her eye line shifted and Callie glanced behind herself. Mark was rubbing slowly up and down Lexie's back as he spoke into a cell phone. Bringing her attention back to her witness she cleared her throat before Danielle interrupted, "Did she blame me?"

Shaking her head from side to side, Callie answered swiftly, "No, she didn't." Crouching down, Callie looked up at the woman and smiled again, "So, you were out of the house tonight with friends?"

"Yes. Look, I already told you all of this. There was a downpour so we decided to ride it out at the bar until closing, and my friend lives right across the street and I couldn't drive at that point anyway, so I just stayed at Jamie's." Danielle did not make eye contact with Callie, and was instead watching Lexie and Sloan.

"And is it unusual for you to not come home, or not call if you're not coming home?" Callie pressed forward.

"I did call," she nodded. "Thatcher didn't answer, but that's not unusual." She started sobbing more uncontrollably. "Oh, God, he was already dead then, wasn't he? I should have come home!"

Reaching out for her hand, Callie's voice dipped into a lower register, sounding warmer and more comforting, a trick of the trade, "We don't know that for sure. Now Danielle, did you notice anyone new or suspicious around the house or neighborhood?" She could see her focusing on the questions her eyes rolled up, trying to run through the mind's eye. "Anything threatening or out of the usual happen to either of you recently."

"No, nothing is jumping out at me or any one person."

Callie decided to dig into her theory a bit, "Lexie had mentioned something about AA, was Thatcher still going?"

The question seemed to be a slap to the woman as she sat back roughly, "Of course he was, we both were. Thatcher was faithful to the program."

"Anything come up in AA? New people, something odd?" Callie's hand was starting to hurt, Danielle was holding it so tight. Callie smiled warmly and rubbed the top of her witness's hand.

"There are new people in and out all the time, but nothing that stands out." Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm not helping at all," she said sadly, shaking her head.

"No, you're doing great. That's enough questions for now, anyway." Callie stood and Danielle dropped her hand. Outside, she saw Derek pull into the driveway, and Meredith Grey got out of the passenger seat and started for the house.

Turning back to the bereft girl, she sighed, "Is there anyone we can call for you? A friend?"

A tight smile and strangled laugh came out of her, "Actually my friend Maggie is coming here. I'm going to stay at her place. It's weird, I never thought she'd be the one to be there for me."

Callie nodded, "People can surprise you."

She looked at the two sisters hugging and saw as Lexie broke down, not able to hold together a facade once Meredith pulled her into an embrace. Derek stood in the corner pulling on gloves as he kicked his head back for the detectives to join him.

"What am I looking for, Detectives?"

"Thatcher Grey was shot and killed last night," Mark said plainly. "No known suspect or motive at this time, but if you're a betting man, odds are good we can link this to our anti-alcohol vigilante."

Derek nodded as he leaned over the body and pulled up his shirt to find the bullet wounds. "Looks like two shots to the chest."

"My only problem with linking this to the serials," Torres said, "is that as far as I know, Thatcher didn't have a criminal history of any sort. Where is the justice seeking coming from in this case?"

"Someone like Meredith would seek some sort of retribution for not having her father around as a kid, if she were anyone other than Meredith," Derek said as he motioned for Mark to help him turn the body over so he could look for exit wounds.

"For whatever that's worth," Derek added. Then he stood and pulled his gloves off. "No exit wounds. I should be able to find two bullets in him at the morgue."

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, "So the pattern, if this even is our guy, is more erratic."

"Well," Callie motioned towards the Grey sisters talking in hushed tones, "I think if we can get Lexie and Meredith to come back to the station, we can find out if there was more about Thatcher than we know."

Derek scoffed, "Are you saying that you are placing Meredith and Lexie as persons of interest? Why not the girlfriend?" His questioning reminded Callie why tensions always ran high when the family of one of their own had been taken. Everyone second guessed the process.

"Derek," Mark's tone was all that the ME needed to shake his head, the soft curl from his hair falling across his forehead, "I'm sorry, I won't impede the investigation. I'm going to be back at the morgue. I'll," he paused before pushing out a breath, "I'll let Meredith know to head back with you both."

* * *

Lexie leaned back in the metal chair in her interrogation room, exhausted. Her body went limp and she sighed. "Mark, please. Let me get to the lab. We can rush through the analysis on the bullets and see if we get a NIBIN hit. That information is going to be far more helpful to this investigation than sitting here and asking me questions. And I was at work all night, so we all know I didn't do it. Nor would I want to. Please let me go solve my father's murder, Mark!"

Sloan rubbed his beard. "There's nothing you can think of?"

"You ran his history yourself. He was a drunk, irresponsible man, but he was my father and I loved him. He didn't have a criminal record. I know what you're trying to do. I'm not an idiot. I know what's going on with your unsolved alcoholic cases. I work here, too. Talk to me." Rightfully so, Lexie was frustrated. "I need to _do something_."

Meredith sipped on the coffee as Callie poured herself a cup. She looked over her shoulder, back to the room she had been sitting in with Lexie, "You know, I keep trying to care about him being dead, but I can't get there." Noticing Callie's arched eyebrow, questioning her, she continued, "He wasn't around and then Lexie popped up in the hospital when her sister was having a baby, and I had sisters who had this perfect family. So, I hated them."

She shuffled her feet back and forth and her canvas tennis shoes squeaked along the tile, "Lexie tried, she always tried more than Thatcher Grey ever did to build a relationship with me. Because Thatcher's relationship was with a highball of scotch." Her pained eyes found Callie's, "He may have been a great Dad at times to her, but he also put her through the same emotional hell that he put me through. I just didn't have to cover up for him." She turned back to the coffee station and picked up a packet of sugar, shaking it roughly back and forth.

Callie watched the absentminded ritual of making the coffee sludge from the station seem more like coffee and less like oil. She realized Meredith must be a professional at it since she worked at the hospital.

"Meredith?" she questioned, "Do you know, did he ever hurt Lexie?"

As a doctor, Meredith knew where this was going. She also lightly questioned patients to see if social services or the police needed to be called when injuries didn't fit stories, "No, I don't believe so. It was all verbal abuse, which can-"

"Hurt worse." Callie nodded. "Thanks."

The door flew open and Lexie stomped out, her dark hair flying as Mark grabbed onto her hand, "Lexie, slow down." He snatched his jacket off the back of his chair and looked at his partner. He hoped the divide and conquer tactic had helped with any lead. Something passed over Callie's eyes and he realized there might be a small lead, he just hoped that ballistics would blow the case open.

Callie stared at her make-shift piles of papers as she tried to link her unsolved victim cases together: The burned guy in the car, the dude beaten with a softball bat, Mr. Vincent Wells who was sliced open by someone with medical knowledge, a personal trainer crushed under a pile of weights in her own gym, and Thatcher Grey. All alcoholics. All people who had criminal histories... that is, until Thatcher Grey.

Try as she might to focus all of her attention on these five cases, her mind kept wandering. She put more coffee into her system since what she probably really needed was sleep, and once again she found herself thinking about the items stolen from her cars. Not once, but twice. And Thatcher Grey. It was all starting to feel very personal. Callie was afraid that she was no longer being impartial.

And then she thought something very scary, indeed. A chill ran up her spine and goose-flesh spread across her arms simultaneously. She heard a door close behind her in the homicide break room that she had taken over.

"I was told I'd find you in here," Mark said, looking over the papers strewn all over the room.

"What if we know the killer, Mark?" Callie asked, darkness clouding behind her eyes.

Mark's eyes narrowed as he took in Callie's question, "Is this because of the break-in to Amelia and your car?" He shook his head, disagreeing, "Nah, he was just going after you to figure out where we were on the cases."

"No, Mark, the second one was deliberate," she rubbed her face roughly before leaning back in her chair. It groaned in protest as she rocked herself slowly back and forth.

He crossed his arms, "Okay, let's do this then."

She could tell just from his stance that he was only humoring her, "Okay, who are you close to?"

A slight shrug registered through his shoulders and he grumbled, "Do you mean like physically or... well that's pretty much the close that I do, Torres."

"So no one longer than a night?" Callie shot daggers at him. "If you're not going to try to help, get out. You're only slowing me down."

"Fine," he pulled out a chair from the table and sat next to her. "Derek, sometimes. We're on relatively good terms right now. So, in turn, Meredith. And Lexie."

"Meredith and Derek were together last night. Lexie was at work. All of those people have alibis," Callie said, even though it was something they both already knew.

"Your turn," Sloan replied, his tone proving to her that this was a ridiculous exercise.

"You, Arizona, and in turn, Yang."

"Well it's not me," Mark put his hands in the air.

"And Arizona has been with me both times the cars were broken into," Callie replied.

"And Cristina Yang?" Mark asked, going through the motions.

Torres sat in silence for a few moments, trying to think back. "I don't know. She was called out to some of the scenes as a first responder, I think. She might have pulled a double when Amelia was broken into?" Callie's last statement was more of a question.

"How long have you known Yang?" Mark leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he joined his hands together and rested his head on them.

Callie furrowed her brows, "I met her at Joe's, I guess when I changed to Homicide." She turned the tables on him, "What about you and Cristina, did you two ever?"

"Not yet," Mark replied, as if his list only included completed and incoming categories.

Rolling her eyes dramatically, Callie pushed away from the table, "Forget it, Mark. Let's go home and try to get some sleep." She moved her shoulders in a slow circle, hearing the pops and cracks as the joints tried to work out the long day. "We'll come back at start of shift and hopefully have the firearms report."

"Torres," Mark cocked his head for a moment before continuing, "I don't mean this in the wrong way, but could it be someone from your old division?"

Callie frowned, "A cop?"

"We did say that they have knowledge of police procedure," she shook her head, "It doesn't fit the medical bit on the Wells case."

Mark stared at her as she took in a breath, "Medical knowledge." Callie felt a sinking feeling in her stomach at the prospect.

"I'll look into it. Get home and check in on Arizona," Sloan said protectively.

She didn't mention that it was one of the few times that Mark had mentioned her girlfriend by name. Because the kindness that Mark was showing her in this moment scared her more than his usual coy regard for her relationship.

* * *

Callie shuffled into her apartment and locked the deadbolt before heading directly to the couch and collapsing on it, face down. Arizona watched the scene unfold and asked, "Rough day?"

"You have no idea," Callie mumbled directly into a pillow. "Lexie Grey's father was shot and killed. Mark and I worked the case."

Arizona's lips curled back as her nose crinkled, "Doesn't that sound like a conflict of interest?"

"I'm certainly conflicted about a lot of things," Callie agreed, still talking into her pillow.

Arizona pulled Callie into her arms, "I can't understand you like that. Come here."

They both leaned back into the couch. Arizona softly tugged the hair tie off of Callie's french braid and started to work the hair loose, "The workday is easing away now." Her fingers slid through the unencumbered hair, leaning down to the forehead nestled into her chest, she let out a soft humming noise, "See, there is my Calliope. You're in a safe spot now."

"Mmmmm," Callie relaxed a bit, letting down her guard and some of the day's stress seep from her tense muscles and conflicted heart.

"Have you talked to Yang recently?" Callie questioned.

"This morning. No, wait..." Arizona thought for a moment. "I guess the last I saw her was after work the other day. After the whole handcuff fiasco. I haven't spoken to her since she went to the junkyard with me. And then today I did the traffic and fixed your car." She waited for a response and when it didn't come said, "You're welcome by the way."

Callie reached for Arizona's hand and threaded their fingers together. She dropped a kiss on the back of Arizona's palm, "Thank you, for fixing her up. I could have taken her to a shop." Her tone was distracted as Arizona hadn't been able to give an alibi for Yang's whereabouts during Thatcher's murder.

Leaning to her left, Arizona tried to catch Callie's eye line, but was failing. As much as Callie had relaxed, she tensed back up after Arizona's last comments. "Did I do something?" Arizona questioned.

"What?" Callie's eyes snapped up towards her face as she was pulled out of her train of thought.

Arizona repeated herself, "Did I do something? I mean, you can check on the car if you are worried about it."

"It's not the car, Arizona," Callie said, distractedly, the neurons in her brain firing along a different train of thought. She hadn't known either Arizona or Yang before the first call. Was it coincidence that they met that day, or something more?

"Then what is, it? I thought you'd be happy. I thought you'd want to go see it. Take a drive. Relax a little tonight." Arizona tapped Callie's shoulder. "Hello?"

She shook her head and sat up on the edge of the couch. Facing the window from the front room, the rain seemed to be getting worse instead of better, the clouds made it seem like the night was stretching onwards and that Callie was stuck in a waking nightmare. Arizona scooted up behind her on the couch, a hand running lightly up and down Callie's back. She recognized it as a calming gesture, but it was only making her anxiety bubble through.

"When we first met, how long had you been flying, for Seattle...?"

Arizona's brow furrowed, slightly confused, "Not too long. Callie what is this about?"

Staring ahead she continued, "And Yang, was she always your medic?"

"We were partnered together from my start. She'd been here much longer than me, obviously." Arizona's hand fell into her own lap and Callie turned to look directly at her for the first time since the conversation started.

"What was your first impression?"

Arizona eyeballed her, wondering what the sudden interest in Cristina Yang was all about. "My first impression? She was precise, blunt, and decisive. She was usually professional, if her mouth didn't get in the way, and she got the job done. She actually reminded me a lot of a bunk mate in boot camp. But first impressions aren't always correct, Callie," Arizona thought back to that specific bunk mate for a moment, then continued. "Yang's so much more complicated than that. In her own way she's deeply caring, loyal, and extremely kind."

Nodding, Callie wondered if she should continue, but she kept coming back to the look that Mark gave her when he told her to go home and check on Arizona. She decided to change her tactic, "Do you have any vacation days? I bet that Reese would love to see you on her side of the country."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Arizona pulled back from the cop sitting in front of her wondering when exactly this slipped into an interrogation. Something was wrong and Callie wasn't telling her what it was. "I thought the policemen's ball was coming up. I thought we were going. I thought you couldn't wait to show me off. What is going on, Callie?"

Pushing herself up off the couch, Callie threw her arms out, "I don't know for sure, but I don't want you to be around Yang anymore, Arizona." She rubbed her hand roughly along her forehead, trying to decide what she could share and what she shouldn't. "I just…" she stopped, "please just… I can't have you here. Let me protect you how I know to protect you."

She knew from the flash of anger that moved over Arizona's face that perhaps the word protect was the wrong word to use toward a Marine.

A hand jutted out toward her as Arizona scoffed, "Stop. Be honest with me. I'm a big girl, Calliope. I know what and who I can handle."

Callie's frustration at the situation boiled over, "Look, I _can't_, Arizona. I'm in the middle of an on-going investigation and I simply can't talk to you about this!"

Arizona stood to level their face-off. "So you're telling me that Cristina Yang is somehow suspect in your unsolved murders? Have you gone completely batshit crazy? Why would you even ever consider it?"

"We're not talking about this," Callie said, turning her back on Arizona and walking into the other room. She mentally kicked herself for revealing any information at all. It was a bad idea to try to learn about Yang through someone she was so close to, especially in an unofficial setting. Stupid.

"The hell we're not!" Arizona yelled, following her into the bedroom.

Callie worked angrily on her duty belt and whipped it violently onto the duvet. She turned and saw Arizona standing at the edge of the bed with her arms crossed over her chest. _Awesome_. "Just forget about it. It was a rough, emotional day and I got worried, okay?"

"And worried instantly means that you have to ship me off to no man's land? I've been there Callie, Seattle is much safer."

"_I don't want you here!_" Callie said roughly, her arms shaking with words she didn't mean.

"Oh, really? Because I quite distinctly remember you telling me that people always leave you. That you have abandonment issues. Do you want to know why, Calliope? Because you _push_ them away!"

Her mouth dropped open as if Arizona had slapped her physically and for all intents and purposes she had, "I know that it might be a foreign concept to you, but in relationships people actually give their girlfriend the benefit of the doubt." She chuckled coarsely, "Oh wait, you've never had one before, right? Just a lay here and there."

"Go ahead," Arizona said, pushing hair out of her eyes. "Go ahead. I can take it. You don't think I've heard worse in the closed-minded pig-headed boys club I belonged to for years? You think that I haven't already been called every revolting name in the book?" Arizona took a breath and continued, "That's not what's at issue here. My life choices prevented me from doing a lot of the things that I wanted to do over the years, but I'm not going to let you ruin what we have now. Not when I don't know why. Not when you refuse to talk to me. I thought relationships were about honest and open communication!" Arizona reached down and grabbed Callie's wrist, forgetting that it was probably still just as raw as her own from the handcuff incident several nights ago.

Wincing slightly, Callie twisted her arm only to have Arizona step in closer to her, just Arizona's proximity was enough to send a wave of calm over her. She closed her eyes and dropped her head, energy sagging out of her, "I'm being as honest as I can be right now." A flash of light cut through the dark bedroom and crack of thunder reverberated in the room. Callie felt the panic rise again when she thought about Arizona being in harm's way.

"Can't you just humor me?" she asked quietly.

"Callie," Arizona said evenly, "I'm not going to humor your half-cocked theory that my best friend has been murdering multiple people. You have to see that it's crazy. Have you even talked to her? Look, we can call her right now and clear up this whole mess. She couldn't have done it."

Callie shook her head, "I have this awful feeling in my gut, Arizona. The more I learn, the worse it gets. I can't imagine you being anywhere near her. And before I question her, I need more information. You cannot say anything to her. If she flees..."

"She won't flee because she hasn't done anything but save lives by my side every day." Arizona's hand jutted down with her last words to prove a point, "We _save_ lives Callie. Accusing Cristina? You might as well say it was me."

Her gaze swept over the floor and caught sight of a pair of boots. Arizona moved quickly to them snagging up the tattered Marine issued gortex boots. She plunged her foot into it and could swear she still felt sand.

"What are you doing?" Callie's demeanor changed, frustration making way for anger.

Arizona tugged on the fraying laces, "You told me to leave, so I'm going to get out of your hair. You don't have to worry about me anymore."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Callie stood in front of the bedroom door, Arizona's only exit. "I would never accuse you of something like this. I know that you save lives. Your whole life has been focused on it. That's why you should be concerned about whatever Cristina's doing!"

Arizona pulled on her second boot, "I will not have you turn me against her!" She didn't even take the time to tie the laces and bolted upright, "Get out of my way, Callie."

Her only answer was an impression of an immovable object from Callie, "No."

Turning back into the room, Arizona pulled the closet door open and yanked her flak jacket off the hanger. The resounding chimes from the hangers hitting each other seemed harsh to her ears. She turned back to Callie and made a move for the doorway again, "Move."

"You're going for a ride?" Callie motioned to the windows, "It's a downpour out there."

Arizona stood toe to toe to her, "Move."

"Absolutely not," Callie said, a stern expression on her face. "The paramedics will be scraping you off of the interstate if you leave like this."

"And God forbid, No - Callie Torres has forbidden me from seeing any paramedics!" She shouldered her way past Callie, who followed close behind.

"Arizona -"

The front door opened quickly, and Arizona rushed down the stairs to the street. The rain pelted her face and hair as she struggled into the jacket on and zipped it up. She cursed to herself as she realized that her helmet was inside the apartment, but as she glanced back up the stoop, she knew there was no way to get in and out again without a physical fight.

Callie was still in pursuit, barefoot, and now just as drenched through, as Arizona threw her leg over her bike. Flipping the kickstand up with one leg, she punched down on the starter and heard the rumble of her bike match that of the rolling thunder. Beautiful.

"Arizona, do not do this..." Callie had reached the side alley where she had parked.

"It's too late, Callie." She revved the engine, drowning out everything else Callie was screaming to her over the engine noise and pelting rain. Water dripped from her hair, her eyebrows, the end of her nose, and with one last look at Callie, she took off.

Watching the taillight recede in the distance, Callie realized that her own tears were mixing with the cold rain. Arizona's tires slipped on water pooling on the roadway for a second, water spraying up behind her back, before catching traction again. She took a right turn and disappeared from view, Callie's heart hammering in her chest.

She was losing grip on everything that mattered.

* * *

Meredith's face held a ghost of a smile as she offered a steaming cup of tea to Mark. "I know it's not coffee, but sometimes it's just about holding the cup, isn't it?"

He held her gaze for a while, seeing pieces of Lexie in her before they both looked back into the bedroom at the small frame curled up on the bed. "She'll come back from this right, Grey?"

Meredith shrugged. "We all have things to overcome. I think we mostly do."

Mark starred into his tea, right to the bottom of the cup. "I don't know what to do. I always know what to do," he stated evenly.

Meredith just sat there with him quietly. She found that mostly it's what people needed. And if they wanted more, she usually didn't know how to offer it.

They both were brought out of their reverie as strains of loud guitar riffs filtered through the room. Lexie's form moved quickly on the bed as she blindly reached for her phone on the bedside table, "Hello?"

Mark looked at Meredith with an arched brow and mouthed to her in amusement, "[i]_The Who_[/i]?"

She nodded and rolled her eyes, "She thinks it's funny."

Mark grinned warmly, leave it to the young, enthusiastic Grey to equally make fun of and both love the show that she ripped apart for the inaccuracies in her profession.

"Are you sure about that, Steve?" Lexie's voice focused them both back onto the slumped form on the bed. "Okay. No, he's here, I'll let him know."

Lexie got out of bed and padded into the living room on bare feet. "Mark?" she asked quietly.

"What's going on?" Mark asked, standing from the couch and approaching her side.

"I just got a call from the firearms lab. They got a NIBIN hit on the bullets they pulled from my dad."

Mark could tell that she was shaky and put his arm around her, bracing for the news.

"It came back to a police issued pistol. A Glock 22, 40 caliber, registered to Detective Callie Torres."

* * *

She wasn't sure how long she had stood outside, but as Callie walked into the apartment, the water dripped onto the floors as she slowly stripped the clothes off into a pile in the vestibule. Her eyes caught on the wine glass on the table in the front room that Arizona had barely started in on, traces of her light pink lipstick pressed against the glass leaving the ghost of a kiss.

The water still ran in slow streams down her arms from her hair as she numbly walked down the hallway to the bedroom. She crawled onto the bed and closed her eyes. Callie took a deep breath and could smell the mix of shampoos that Arizona used on the pillowcase. Her breath rattled as her phone buzzed from the foot of the bed. She pushed herself up, and grabbed for cell, hoping that it was Arizona letting her know that she was safe at home.

Instead she saw Mark's name, "Torres," she answered.

"Callie, the firearms report came back, meet me at the station."

He paused and she knew that he was holding back something, "Mark?"

The drawn out sigh made her finally feel the full effect of the rain. Her body took in the chills that ran along her skin, but she wasn't sure that it was all from the weather, or from how Arizona had left.

"It was your piece, Callie."

_From the primordial soup the first organism slipped from, to the world as we know it today, there has never been time without the ferocious forces of nature acting upon unsuspecting victims, followed by the fury and uncontrollable emotions of man. Wars have been waged. Winners proclaimed. But how long until the champion falls?_


	11. Episode Eleven: Everything Feels Wrong

**Midnight Oil: Special Assignment**

By taintedidealist and drink46

**Disclaimer: **We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on Grey's Anatomy which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably _Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Castle, Law and Order _and _CSI_. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained.

**Ratings: **Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time or all in this episode.

**Feedback:** Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.

**Story Information: **This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters' lives, but not who they are as a person. Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, and Miranda Bailey work for the Seattle Police Department. Captain Arizona Robbins and Cristina Yang are paramedics. Lexie Grey is a crime scene technician. Crime, injuries, and death occur in their city as Callie and Arizona get to know one another on a more personal level.

**Episode Eleven: Everything Feels Wrong **

_From the first moment you open your eyes, the way your day progresses is through simple moments. The alarm clock doesn't go off, your coffee order is wrong, the engine is flooded. If these tiny events spiral, changing you from yourself into only a person who looks like you, dressed up in your clothes and voice. The worst? When everything was wrong before you even went to sleep, so even if all the little things, the simple moments are right, everything still feels wrong. _

Callie kept replaying events with Arizona and how they unraveled, and wished she had done something differently. Although she couldn't place exactly what she would have done differently. And the monumental problems that she caused with Arizona were currently the least of her worries. She'd just worked a double shift and now was heading back to the unit to meet her partner because the service weapon she carelessly had stolen was now used in the murder of a department member's father. And it wasn't just any murder. No, it was one in a series from the very man she was trying to catch. Or woman.

Everything in her life was falling apart and she wondered when she had wronged a voodoo priestess, since nothing else could explain this level of total personal devastation. She took a deep breath and pulled the door open. Inside, she saw Mark pacing the hall.

He stopped and turned toward his partner. Rubbing his hand up and down his neck, he grimaced, "How are-" his speech halted. Mark's head dropped for a moment before he looked back at her, "Lexie is in with Bailey, she brought up the paperwork from the lab."

Callie's brow crinkled in confusion, "Why is Lexie still involved? So she can make me feel even shittier about this?"

"Torres," he continued, "She's involved because it's all personal now. Are you saying that you should sit on the sidelines too, because it was your jacked piece?" He watched her shoulders stiffen, "No, exactly."

"I didn't like this serial murder thing before, Mark. I mean, not in our city. But now it's just... it makes my skin crawl." Callie stood in front of him and crossed her arms tightly, hugging them close to her body, trying to keep all the warmth she had.

"I know," Mark added, but it was of little comfort.

Looking at the floor, Callie mumbled to her partner. "There's something else I have to tell you."

"Something else that was stolen?" Mark asked, fearing the situation couldn't possibly get any worse.

"I innocently asked Arizona a few questions about Cristina Yang." Kept staring at the floor tiles while she spoke.

"And that woman is a lot smarter than you gave her credit for?" he asked, a little disappointed. "This is a tough situation, Callie. I think all of us are a bit too close to this one. I'm the one that told you to check on her."

Her head slowly lifted and she held his gaze for a moment before she spoke through a clenched jaw, "I don't like you being this nice."

Mark cocked his head in question, "I'm sorry?"

"Stop it." Callie quickly answered as she let out a frustrated breath.

He looked at her through squinted eyes and tried again, "You were stupid, Torres. Don't make that move again or I'll request another partner." He couldn't stop the grin from sneaking up his face, "Better?"

She smiled back and actually meant it, "Much better."

"Torres! Sloan! My office!" Bailey barked as she opened her door.

Mark slowly turned and motioned for Callie to step ahead of him, "Oh, no, after you."

When they entered her office, Lexie Grey was already sitting on the couch. Mark took the seat beside her, leaving an uncomfortable looking straight backed chair for Callie. She preferred to stand.

"We need to talk about this situation we find ourselves in, don't you think?" Captain Bailey asked. Most would assume this was a rhetorical question, but Callie knew better. Captain Bailey always wanted a response.

"Yes ma'am, I would like to apologize to Grey and to the department for the outcome of my careless actions. If I had secured my weapon, I believe we would not be in this situation." Callie stretched her back taller, prepared for the backlash.

"Hmph," Bailey's lip curled up as she looked up and down Callie's frame, "I'm sure Lexie Grey understands that if your gun had not been taken that the crime would have been committed all the same." Her left hand slid across the top of her desk as she gathered file folders.

Callie's eyes narrowed in confusion, "Ma'am?"

Rounding her desk, Captain Bailey motioned toward the chair, "Sit." She waited for Callie to respond to her direction before her lips drew a taunt line, the silence building for a moment. She looked between her two detectives and the young crime scene tech, "Do you people think that I ask you to do paperwork because I do not, in fact, read your reports?"

The room responded in a chorus, "No, ma'am."

Her voice grew louder, "Do you three assume that I do not have an ear to the ground in my own division?" Bailey threw her hands up and tossed her hair as she looked around the room surveying the occupants.

The three again answered her, "No, ma'am."

She leaned forward, her voice almost a whisper, "Then why would you think that I do not understand what is going on with your unsolved cases detectives?"

"We would never think that, Ma'am," Sloan was the first to speak up.

"I realize that all of you could be intimately involved in these cases. I also know that you are professionals with sound ethical standards. Do you know why I know this, Detectives?" Bailey folded her hands together in front of her.

"No, Ma'am," Callie answered this time.

"Because I raised you." Bailey smiled, a rare sight. "And because I raised you, I know that you are the finest members of this department. If anyone were to solve this case, it would be me. But I'm very busy raising you, so the next best choice is you." She paused for a moment, letting this sink in.

"I have already talked to the Major and we agree that although there may be a conflict of interest at this point, there is nothing here that would compromise the investigation, and we do not want someone else to take over at this point."

Mark sighed with relief. After all their hard work, he didn't just want to hand it over to someone else who would reap all the rewards when they finally caught their killer.

"But," Bailey stood, "I want to make sure that you are all okay. There is no shame in coming off of this case, and if you want me to, I will pull you off myself."

Lexie raised her hand timidly, "Um, Captain?" She smiled as a nervous chuckle came out of her, "I really appreciate being included in my father's case and the case files you asked me about before, but are you," she hesitated, "saying that they're all linked?"

Taking a deep breath, Bailey opened her mouth, only to shut it when Lexie continued prattling on, "Because I mean, I see that there are a few similarities, but if you look at the deaths of the victims in each of the cases, there was not a pattern in the weapon, or-or, type of victim," she rolled her eyes up, thinking, "I mean, at least when you look at the physical evidence," her lopsided smile returned, "which I do."

Bailey raised her eyebrows, "Are you finished, Grey?"

Nodding in short bursts, Lexie cringed for a moment, "Yes, I'm sorry. Finished Captain."

"Sloan," Bailey looked between him and Callie, "Torres, why don't you sit down with Grey and get her caught up on the rest of the cases. Then look over all the physical evidence that she is familiar with. As of this minute, I'm putting all three of you on Special Assignment. You are to work these cases, and only these cases, and God forbid, any other ones that resemble them that are yet to come in. Understood?"

The detectives nodded together. Mark stood, easing his hand behind Lexie's back to get her to follow him, "Yes, Captain."

Bailey watched the three of them leave and let out a noise of disgust, "Killer playing some twisted game of crusades in my city?" She shook her head, "Nuh-uh, not on my watch." Her forefinger slid under the manila folder as she whipped it open, "Not on my watch."

* * *

Arizona zipped her flight suit and continued to stare at Yang's duffle bag. It was similar to her own and contained all of the things they needed through the course of a shift. And she would never violate Cristina's privacy by looking in it. They were friends. Partners. They had a relationship built on mutual respect and trust. Yet, Arizona could not take her eyes off of the bag, and couldn't help but wondering what sort of contents it held within its belly.

She sat down on the locker room bench and kept staring at the damn thing, cursing Callie silently for planting the seeds of doubt in her mind.

Her right hand raised and ghosted over the black duffel. It reminded her briefly of the game she used to play with her brother on long car trips in the sweltering Georgia heat. She could almost hear him, "Not touching you, can't get mad." She wasn't touching the bag, not toeing over the line, there was no sensible cause of doubt for Yang to provoke this feeling.

Except for Callie's doubt.

"What are you doing?"

Arizona's eyes snapped up at Yang who was roughly tying her hair up into a top knot. Her hand following suit as she pointed towards Cristina, "You are quiet."

"You are weird." Yang's face crumpled up, puzzled, "What were you doing, a psychic reading of the aura of my duffel?"

Arizona shook her head. "Sorry, I kinda zoned out there for a minute."

"Everything okay?" Cristina asked, casually.

"Yeah," Arizona nodded, then said, "Actually, no. Callie and I got in a big fight about something stupid last night and I can't decide if I should apologize or if I should wait for her to do it."

Cristina cocked an eyebrow, "Who was wrong?"

"That's just it. I don't know," Arizona mumbled.

"It shouldn't be that hard to figure out. The world is pretty black and white, don't you think?" asked Yang as she sat on the bench next to Arizona.

Arizona shook her head lightly, "I think there is a lot of grey in the world, too." She turned toward her partner and dipped her head down, looking up through her lashes, trying to see something to help. "Not everything has a right and wrong, Cristina."

Yang's palm ran up and down her own thigh, the fabric creating a calming white noise in the locker room. "Actually, you're wrong and I'm right, Robbins." Cristina shrugged her shoulders, "Pretending that the world has areas of grey just makes you weak."

Arizona stood, "Yeah, well, I've been struggling with that my whole life." She smiled weakly and headed for the flight deck wondering how she would have taken that conversation yesterday, before Callie's accusations. At the moment it was not sitting well with her. In fact, nothing really was, as if her skin wasn't the right size today. Just about everything felt wrong.

* * *

Mark watched as Lexie quickly flipped the page to the report on Jackson Avery's death and then looked back at the one on Margaret Mayfield's death, which she had worked on. She plunged her hands into her hair. It tumbled around her face, creating a shield around her and the file folders. It was adorable to him and that feeling wasn't one he was used to where a woman was concerned. Thinking something was hot, yes, worthy of taking to bed, yes, but with Lexie, he felt something else. He wanted to take her, but for once his bed was not the first place that jumped to mind.

Lexie closed her eyes and tried to take a couple of deep breaths. It seemed like sensory overload, her brain trying to file away information and categorize it in a way that made sense and would help with the profile Torres walked her through. They believed there was a connection between the criminal past of the victims of the alleged serial killer.

It made sense, except for her father, he didn't have a criminal history. The only arrests were drunk and disorderly conduct and the charges were dropped. Instead he had just spent more than one night in the drunk tank sobering up and one time he had paid a fine.

"Lexie?"

She jerked in her chair and caught Mark's soft gaze on her, "Yes?"

"I think we should go out," he said, rather bluntly.

"Go where?" Lexie looked around, but clearly had no idea what he was referring to.

"Not right this minute. I mean to dinner or something where I say nice things and you smell pretty and I pay for something," Mark fumbled over his word selection.

"It sounds like you're talking about a date, Mark," Lexie stated, blinking at him in confusion.

He shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet. Mark looked around the pit, checking to make sure that no one was watching as he possibly bombed asking Lexie out because he was actually nervous.

"Mark?"

Sloan brought his eyes back to hers as she scratched at the tip of her nose. He swallowed deeply, and let out a long breath before he tried again, "Yes, I would like to take you out on a date." The word date felt foreign coming out of his mouth, but he pressed on, "A fancy one, too. Would you like to go to the Policeman's Ball with me, Lexie Grey?"

"The ball?" her face crunched up and little wrinkles formed around her nose. She had been waiting for weeks for Mark to ask her on a real date that didn't involve him eating dinner at a table with her and her sister and brother-in-law... but now? Of all times, he asked her now?

Mark shook his head back and forth quickly, chuckling at himself for his belief that maybe Lexie felt something too. He tried to cover and backtrack quickly, "The ball?" He parroted her and let out a groan, "No, of course you don't want to go to the ball. I don't either. I just thought that you'd make it bearable, but never mind." He threw his hands up in front of himself, "Bad idea."

"No, no, no, no..." Lexie paused, wanting to not sound too desperate, "I'll go with you. I mean, sure."

A wide grin spread over his face that he tried in vain to control, "Good. Good. And Lexie?" He waited for her to give him her full attention, "I want you to know this isn't a pity date. I am asking you because I want you as more than a friend of a friend."

Mark only saw shock on her face, but he pushed on, "I'm interested in a date after this date." He took a couple of breaths and nodded, his tongue quickly wetting his lips, "So, yeah."

Lexie smiled, a pink flush quickly spreading up her cheeks. "I really appreciate you being here for me, about my dad. And including me in the case and all..."

"This is not a pity date, Lexie," Mark repeated, sternly. "And the Captain included you on this assignment. You've proven yourself. That had nothing to do with me."

Lexie nodded, squeezed Mark's hand quickly, and then dove back into the case files with determination.

Mark turned toward the coffee pot and saw his partner waving a cup at him. Her smile was reaching Cheshire cat levels. He walked closer and whispered to her, "I don't want to hear a thing, Torres."

She handed over a mug and patted his back, "My Sloan, all grown up and asking a girl out to Prom." Callie brought both of her hands together forming a steeple, the pointer fingers resting on her mouth. She bit her lip for a moment and had worked up a few crocodile tears, "So proud."

Rolling his eyes, Mark started to pour himself a cup and kept his voice quiet, "Find anything out from that ex-husband of yours about Thatcher?"

Callie shook her head, "No, he seems clean from all the records in the DA's office too."

Mark nodded and looked back at Lexie - there had to be some way that Thatcher fit into the pattern.

* * *

Arizona ducked as she stood inside of her chopper, going through inventory and pre-flight check. Yang's duffle bag was stalking her, as it now sat on the floor of her bird. Cristina was nowhere to be seen. Probably because she knew that Arizona was very particular about her pre-flight check.

Everything was in order. Everything but the draw of Cristina's duty bag. The pull was getting stronger and more difficult to fight. In fact, Arizona didn't even know why she was fighting it anymore. So she knelt down and pulled open the zipper.

The bag seemed to growl at her, as the teeth opened slowly before Arizona yanked the flap back and saw a pistol staring back up at her. She reached out and felt the cold metal against her hand. Running her thumb down the slightly worn grip on the gun, she sighed sadly - it was a Glock 22. The standard issue of the police force was staring back at her. She dug deeper into the bag and saw basic black cargo pants worn by so many on EMS, an extra pair of boots, and the small glitter of a coin that winked back at her from the bottom of the duffel. She scooped the disc into her hand, rolling it along her thumb, she squinted, trying to make out the currency, but it seemed more like a token with etching on either side.

Her eyes slowly moved back to the Glock sitting in a holster atop the neatly folded pile of clothes. It felt out of place. This bag would belong in the life of Captain Robbins, but not in a helo for civilians.

What purpose could a firearm serve on an emergency medical flight? Arizona couldn't think of a reason outside of a war zone. She began to bubble with anger. How could Cristina even think of bringing a weapon onboard? Why would she have it? What purpose did it serve, other than betrayal? She lifted the gun out of the bag and pressed the magazine release. The magazine slid from the bottom of the grip. It was loaded, but missing a few rounds. She pulled back the slide and a live round exited the chamber.

A loaded weapon on her aircraft. A firearm that was the same make and model that was stolen from Callie's vehicle. The same kind of firearm that was used in Lexie's father's murder. Could it be one in the same with this firearm? The one she was holding in her hand? Arizona closed her eyes and placed the gun back down in Yang's bag. It was probably a bad idea to touch it, she now realized. But was it? It couldn't possibly be Callie's gun. Right? Not Yang. It couldn't be Cristina responsible for so many murders. Yang saved lives. She would not take those of innocent people.

"What are you doing?"

Arizona turned around slowly.

Yang was still standing on the flight deck and tilted her head. The hair from her ponytail drifted around her neck before she moved her head back the other way. Her weight shifted from foot to foot as she waited for Arizona's answer. "Again," her voice was flat, "What were you doing?"

"Spot inspection," Arizona said, moving her body so that Cristina could see she was going through her personal belongings. There was no reason to hide it, she had been caught red-handed.

"What is this, prison? You do not have the right to go through my personal belongings. You're not in the Marines, anymore, Arizona." She purposefully did not refer to her rank nickname, to prove her point.

"No, this isn't the Marines, Cristina," her voice hit hard on Yang's name. Arizona had dealt with more bravado and disrespect during basic than she was getting from her partner now. She continued, "But this is a public funded vehicle [i]_and_[/i] what you place in my copter goes through the same pre-flight check as any other equipment."

Arizona pointed down at the bag and looked directly into Yang's eyes, "What is a loaded weapon doing here?" The anger started to bubble to the surface and she jabbed down at the bag again, "I will not have it here."

"How dare you!" Cristina screamed, outraged.

"No, you don't get to be angry. You don't get any privileges on this aircraft any more. You might as well go home tonight. I'm not letting you fly with me." Arizona picked up Cristina's duty bag and threw it out of the helicopter, into Yang's arms. It hit her heavily and she took a step back.

Yang dropped the bag to ground and held her palms up, "Okay, fine. I'll take it back down to the locker room." She rolled her shoulders up in a shrug, "I didn't think of it being in there, okay? I just tossed it in after going to the range before work."

"What range?" The scuff of her boots hitting the pavement as Arizona jumped out of the cabin punctuated her question.

A short burst of air pushed out of Yang, "Why does that matter?"

"It matters. Just... okay? I'm sorry that I over reacted." Arizona shook her head in apology. "I've just been really jumpy ever since Callie's gun was stolen. I mean, I have no problem protecting myself or anyone else, for that matter, but I didn't know that you were comfortable handling guns. I didn't peg you for the type."

Yang nodded and looked out at the moon peeking out from behind the clouds. Her lips pursed for a moment, "I'm not a type." She looked back at Arizona and a smile worked across her face, "It won't happen again. I'll lock it the glove box in the car."

Approaching the helicopter, Cristina ran a hand along the seams and rivets around the door. She arched an eyebrow quizzically at Arizona, "Have they found it yet?"

"Found what?" Arizona's mind caught up with the question, "Ah, Callie's gun, not that I know of..."

Turning back to the duffel bag, Yang bent down and snagged it off the deck.

"It was a Glock, too." Arizona added.

Cristina nodded as she hefted the bag over her shoulder, "Common gun."

* * *

"Then she said it was a common gun," Arizona finished retelling the evening's events to Callie.

"It _is_ a popular model. But what did it _look _like, Arizona? Was it mine?" Callie stood up, bracing herself on the table with locked elbows. She simply couldn't sit still.

"Callie, can you please sit down?" Arizona looked around the coffee shop. "You're making me nervous."

"Why didn't you call me sooner? I would have been able to tell you if it was mine. I'm sure of it." Callie sat, but was fidgeting in her seat. She didn't bother touching her coffee since it would only make things worse.

Arizona ran her thumbs up and down the coffee mug and she sighed, "Because the situation had deescalated and we got a call as she was coming back up the stairs." Her eyes fluttered shut, knowing her answer would not calm down either of them, but she wanted to be honest with Callie.

"You did your whole shift with her?"

It was an accusation embedded into a question. Arizona bristled and lowered her voice, "Yes, I did, Calliope. I finished my shift because she had logical reasons and we got a call. I couldn't do a citizen's arrest on her because I had lingering doubts."

Callie took a deep breath. "I know. I'm sorry. It's killing me that she's out there with my weapon." Her knee was bouncing up and down and she held up her hand to Arizona. "I know what you're going to say. I can't prove it. I know that. That's why she's still out there, but I'm telling you, I have this feeling in my gut, Arizona. I know this in my bones and it scares the hell out of me when you're in her presence. It makes me physically ill knowing that you're friends with her." Callie's whole body was vibrating. She couldn't think clearly.

Arizona stared into the cloudy mess that the creamer had made of her drink and then looked up at Callie through her lashes, "I get it. I really do understand what you're saying, but I just can't get my brain to wrap around it being true. It's Cristina." Her voice seemed to get smaller as she tried to make Callie understand, "We save lives."

Taking a deep breath, Arizona bit on the inside of her lip and shook her head back and forth slowly, strands of her hair falling out of her loose ponytail. "Not that I'm the best judge of character." She glanced up at Callie and back at her mug, "I tend to trust too fast and sometimes for too long."

Callie reached across the table and put her hand over Arizona's, rubbing it with her thumb. "That's not a bad quality. It's a great quality. You're loyal. It means a lot to me that you're telling me all of this. I'm sorry that you're in this situation, but I appreciate you being here. You didn't have to tell me this."

Arizona swallowed, "No, I did need to tell you."

She moved her thumb slowly up and down Callie's hand, "Because I flew off the handle," she winced, "and I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I just want you to be safe," Callie tightened her grip on Arizona. "I can't lose you now, and I don't want to fight. I can understand where you're coming from, but I don't like it."

"I liked Cristina right away. She reminded me a lot of someone I knew in the Marines. One of my old bunk mates. I should have known that things would end badly. Cristina is probably more like the woman she reminds me of than I would like to admit." Arizona shook her head. "You would think that I would have learned the trust lesson the first time around, but it looks like this is one I'm going to have to learn the hard way."

"What happened with this Marine?" Callie asked, starting to see the fight they had earlier had much deeper roots than she originally thought. She regretted the arguement, but not that much, if she had actually gotten through to Arizona enough to cause doubts.

Her eyes looked around the cafe and the sparse inhabitants more interested in the free wi-fi connection than the other patrons and focused back on Callie, "She was in my first outfit. We were training on various rotary wing helos and she was acerbic and reminded me of my brother a bit." Arizona picked at the pastry in front of her for a moment, "You know," her smile reached her eyes, "the teasing and competition, but behind that, I had a friend."

Bits of the pastry flaked off of her fingers as Arizona ran her hand along the napkin, "I confided in her. My father had warned me about drawing lines around what a battle buddy shares and what a friend shares." She paused and cleared her throat, "So she knew the secret that could end my career, which was enough to give her leverage over me."

"Was she homophobic?" Callie asked, watching as Arizona fiddled with her napkin. "She was the wrong person to tell. You'd broken the only rule ever put upon gays in the military."

"It wasn't just that," Arizona said, shaking her head. "She was questioning at the time and joined the military for the added bonus of not having to be around gay folks, or at least not knowing that she was around them. Because she was afraid of her feelings, her future, and the consequences. So I didn't help the matter. I came out to her quietly because we had mutual feelings for one another, but she couldn't, or wouldn't accept it. So, instead, she was the most vocal opponent of the 'homosexual agenda' that I have ever met." Arizona used air quotes as she spoke. "My only saving grace, the only reason that she didn't ruin my career, I think, is because she did genuinely like me."

Callie paused for a moment and realized underneath the strength and fearlessness that Arizona had shown her, the pieces of herself that she had to keep hidden away for so long had changed how she reacted to relationships, "Where you together in private?"

Her shoulders slumped and Arizona bit her lip and nodded, "As together as you can be with someone who loathes themselves, and you by extension."

Callie wanted to ask why Arizona had let herself be pulled into a twisted version of a closeted relationship. She knew of women on the force that also stayed closeted for the ease of jokes and comments from the more close-minded officers.

"I was 21, fresh out of college, and so naive." Arizona's face slackened, lost in memories, "She could be so kind and gentle, but then if there was just a threat of anyone figuring it out, it brought out this anger. It's why I asked for a transfer and never held down a relationship when in the service."

She wrapped her hand around the handle of the mug and brought the drink up to her lips. Blowing over the surface, Arizona watched the ripples for a moment before she looked back at Callie, "That same anger is what I saw in Yang when I challenged her about the gun."

"But you said it deescalated," Callie confirmed, once again her stomach knotting at the thought of Arizona in danger.

"It did," Arizona nodded. "I didn't like that moment of rage, so I accepted her reasonable explanation for the weapon."

"That also scares me, you know." Callie held one of Arizona's hands in both of her own.

"I'm not giving up on her, Calliope. She may not have my complete trust, but she is my friend." Callie could see that her determination was set. They were going to have a long road ahead if Callie's instincts were right.

Dipping her head down, Callie looked up into Arizona's eyes. Slowly she moved her right hand and tucked a stray piece of hair behind Arizona's ear, cupping her face, "Okay..."

"But," Arizona continued for her, eyes fluttering closed at the warm hand on her cheek.

Callie chuckled softly, "But, I'd like you to come home with me."

Arizona nodded, and smiled when she opened her eyes. "Good, because I left a few things there that I really want back."

"Oh, did you?" Callie's eyebrow arched and she bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a smile. She put a few bills on the table and stood. Arizona followed suit and Callie ushered her from the shop with a hand on the small of her back.

"A bunch of my clothes, my toothbrush, my motorcycle helmet…"

Callie turned to Arizona on the sidewalk, "You left something else, too."

Her mouth opened for a moment as Arizona's brow wrinkled in thought and she pushed her lips out before letting out a hum of disapproval, "Nope, I'm pretty sure that was it."

"Really?" Callie grinned widely as she ran her hands down the open sides of Arizona's motorcycle jacket. Quickly tugging her forward, Callie placed a firm kiss onto Arizona's mouth. Easing into it, Arizona looped her arms around Callie's waist, pulling her closer, trapping Callie's arms in between their bodies.

Arizona pulled back, sighing happily, before crinkling her brow again in thought for a moment. Her eyes widened and she smirked, "You're right, I left my MP3 player, too."

"I think there's a knuckle sandwich waiting for you there, too," Callie joked, putting her arm around Arizona's shoulders as they walked to her car.

"Ooooh, I don't like sandwiches," Arizona replied with a wrinkled nose and pout.

Callie nodded in agreement, "Me either," she tugged Arizona closer into her side.

"But," Arizona looked up at Callie for a moment and smiled. "I do like the girl with the sandwiches," she dropped her head down to her shoulder and placed a kiss on Callie's hand, "even if they're made of knuckles."

"I'm sure we'll find something else to do," Callie said, and kissed Arizona's temple.

Arizona's arm wound itself behind Callie's back. She slowly ran her hand up and down her side, the tips of her short fingernails lightly scratching through the thin shirt Callie was wearing. "Soooo..." Arizona drew out as she bent her other arm at the elbow, placing her hand over Callie's on her shoulder.

"Yes?" Callie answered, shivering from the quiet promise in Arizona's movements.

Arizona stilled and turned towards Callie, "Do you still want to go to the police prom with me?"

Callie mimicked Arizona, crinkling her nose up in thought she let out a low hum, "I'll let you know at the end of the night," she said, winking.

Arizona laughed loudly, her dimples deepening as her head kicked back. The laughter moved down her shoulders and she looked back at Callie amused, "Oh, is that right?"

Wincing, Callie nodded, "Yeah, I mean I have this whole little black book full of hotties that would go to the ball with me." She shrugged, "So you'll have to woo me."

The edge of Arizona's tongue stuck out between her teeth as she continued to giggle. Clearing her throat, she continued to play along, "What does wooing entail?"

"I think you'll find that if I tell you, it'll spoil all the fun of discovering it for yourself," Callie whispered in Arizona's ear. The heat from her words caused Arizona's arm to break out in gooseflesh.

"Those other women don't stand a chance," Arizona replied with a devilish smile.

Callie caught the spark in her eyes and agreed, "You're probably right, Captain. But everyone should at least get a fair shot."

* * *

The sun peeked through the cracks of the heavy drapes on the window. Puffs of wind caused the fabric to huff into the room before being sucked back against the wire screen. The soft sound of children playing outside, calling to each other, filtered into the room. A hand reached out and flicked on the CB radio scanner and it crackled to life. Voices called out ten codes between the police, EMS units, and crime lab.

The voices called back and forth to each other, some detached and bored, others eager to pick up calls on a nice afternoon. The chair groaned, as if begging for oil as a hand ran over the small devices sitting on the desk.

Alkaline batteries removed from a flashlight, duct tape, several brightly colored copper wires, and a small pile of nails, nuts and bolts were strew about before her, but she turned her attention to a wooden box instead. Inside, there were keys of all sorts: a tiny handcuff key on a chain; large ring with multiple silver keys, like janitors carry with them; a set with an electronic key fob and three keys - one big and two small. This last set was selected from the group and placed with the other items on the desk.

Flipping open a scrapbook, the petite hand moved lovingly over the newspaper clippings detailing crimes scenes of burnt out cars, black and white shots of an alleyway, and a gym. More pages passed with notes of court cases and obituaries. Closing the book with a flourish, a manila folder fell to the ground with a puff of dust rising from the floorboards. Leaning over to pick it up, they groaned from exhaustion.

A thumb kicked the front back on the folder and saw the scrawled chicken scratch from a medical examiner before shutting the folder and tossing it carelessly back onto the desk.

"Now where was I?" her tired voice called out to the room as if expecting an answer.

Cristina placed a few AA sobriety tokens into the pile of nails and other metal scraps. "Right, the detonator," she said in a monotone, and sighed. She picked up some copper wires and began twisting them together. "Controlled chaos…" she whispered to herself.

_You spend your life trying to navigate between right and wrong, where the line stands between black and white, and what is considered the proper action for your current situation. You always try to conduct yourself with grace and poise. You feel best when things have order and you're helping your community. You seek the truth and require justice. Until one day, you wake up and find yourself looking in the mirror at someone you recognize, dressed up in your clothes, and speaking with your voice, but you don't know who that person is at all. Everything feels wrong. You're out of control and the one thing that was your touchstone, the one thing you have always counted on, that is the thing that is tearing you apart. _


	12. Episode Tweleve: Ballroom Blitz

**Midnight Oil: Special Assignment**

by taintedidealist and drink46

**Disclaimer: **We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on _Grey's Anatomy_ which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably _Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Castle, Law and Order_ and _CSI_. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained.

**Ratings:**Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time or all in this episode.

**Feedback:**Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.

**Story Information:**This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters' lives, but not who they are as a person. Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, and Miranda Bailey work for the Seattle Police Department. Captain Arizona Robbins and Cristina Yang are paramedics. Lexie Grey is a crime scene technician. Crime, injuries, and death occur in their city as Callie and Arizona get to know one another on a more personal level.

**Episode Twelve: Ballroom Blitz **

She wiped at the mirror with her hand as the steam had fogged it over during her shower. Arizona pushed the wet locks of hair off her shoulders, and twisting it around her finger, she toyed with a loose bun before groaning to herself and popping the door open to the hallway, "I'm going to need the bathroom for at least another fifteen minutes."

Callie's head popped out from her bedroom, "No! You are not bogarting the bathroom. I still need to shower. I'm all sweaty from the… well, your welcome home." She warmed as Arizona's grinning eyes met hers, and she inched out of the bathroom. The damp tendrils of hair fell around her shoulders and Callie's breath caught, "See, you already look breathtaking."

"Ten more minutes!" Arizona pleaded, clutching her hands together.

_Attacks come in all forms, from subtle and slow to obvious and fast, but it's the subtle and fast that is a shock to the system. Sometimes the blitz is over before the victim can even understand what happened._

Callie bolted from the door and slid on the hardwood floor toward the bathroom as Arizona shrieked with laughter, trying to slam it shut and throw the lock. Callie jammed her shoulder in the doorway, one arm in, the rest of her body in the hall. "You have to let me in!" she said through laughter. "I can't go to the ball like this!"

"Cinderella, you'll get what time in the bathroom I give you, and you'll like it!" Arizona laughed back, trying to push Callie's arm out of the door.

* * *

"I can't find my shoe. Where in the world is my other shoe, Mark?" Lexie asked, frantically throwing things out of her closet while Mark ducked out of the way of flying projectiles.

"Is this your attempt at being Cinderella? Because you already look great. Beautiful. Can't you just wear any of these shoes?" he asking, picking one up from the floor.

He shrank back in fear at the look leveled on him and sputtered, trying to retract his apparent poor shoe logic in the form of help, "What color is it?"

Lexie stuck her foot out towards him as he crouched down, looking under her bed. She showed off a midnight blue peep toe heel with a strap around the ankle, "Like this, Mark. It looks exactly like this."

He grinned for a moment at her shapely leg stuck out towards him and ran his hand up the back of her calf in a calculated attempt to get a better look at the shoe and hopefully make her heart flutter in the process. "I'll find your shoe," his eyes flicked up towards hers as he smiled rakishly, "and it will fit on the first try."

Mark lifted the lid to a shoebox to reveal nothing, then turned his attention to a pile of clothes that were now strewn about the floor. Under each article, he found a shoe, but none were the one he was supposed to be looking for. Just when he was thinking all hope was lost, he spotted it, hiding in plain sight, near the top of Lexie's bed, barely under the cover of a pillow. He cleared his throat and picked up the shoe, presenting it to Lexie.

"Prince Charming!" she fluttered her lashes at him and sighed in relief. "Thank God, I thought we were going to be really late."

_Not all things are easily found. Objects that cause danger, those that were intentionally planted to be difficult to find, even enemies disguising themselves in plain sight as friends. The shock of discovering any of this information is difficult to process, especially when you only have a split second to do so. _

* * *

The sleek fabric inched up her leg as Arizona's nose crinkled up in thought. Her hand slid up her muscular thigh and she let out a sound of satisfaction. The T-Bird came to an abrupt stop in the parking lot and Callie chuckled at the wiggling passenger beside her, "What are you doing?"

Arizona fished out a shiny flask and giggled, "I thought we could tuck in a bit before we went into the ball."

"Are you nervous?" Callie asked with concern.

A puff of air pushed through Arizona's mouth, "No, I just thought that you might be," she paused and felt the silence wafting through the air, "Okay, maybe a little nervous."

"Don't be," Callie replied, taking the flask from Arizona and swallowing a large swig.

Taking her cue from Callie, Arizona did the same in response. She then took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was inside.

"Are you ready?" she asked Callie, who had the flask back up at her lips.

"Locked and loaded," Torres grinned.

"Loaded?" Arizona squinted for a moment, "Is this an open bar?"

"Arizona," Callie warned.

Taking another pull from her flask, Arizona laughed, "I will not embarrass you at a work function." She paused, smiling tightly, her dimples peeking out for a moment before going back into hiding, "Much."

* * *

Callie ran her hands down the expanse of the full skirt of her gown as she glanced over her shoulder, trying to find where Arizona had drifted off to with Lexie in search of an open table. She had trooped over to the bar with Mark to get cocktails for their dates, which should have been an easy task. Instead, they ended up running into Detective Calvin Taylor from Vice, which, if his current behavior indicated how he treated the perps, she pitied the partner that had to be the good cop to his drunk cop.

"Easy pickings tonight. You know what I mean, Sloan?" He waggled his bushy eyebrows suggestively at Mark as his head nodded toward Callie.

Mark unbuttoned his charcoal suit jacket and placed his hands on his own hips, looking as if he was the sheriff in an old western, getting ready to run a no good crook out of town. "Calvin, I'm going to assume for your sake that you did not insult my partner, who," his grin widened while his anger boiled below the surface, "I'm pretty sure could kick your ass even in her fancy getup."

"You homicide detectives think you're hot stuff, don't you?" Calvin laughed. "I got to tell you, what we do undercover is more rockstar than you chasing dead bodies around." He kicked back his drink as he stood in line with them at the bar.

"We're not in this to be rockstars," Callie replied in a monotone, trying to keep her cool.

"Clearly not. You'd have the opportunity, if you could just catch the serial killer running around the city," he scoffed at them.

"What do you know about it?" Sloan asked, his chest puffing in a display of male dominance.

"You know how the rumor mill works around this place," he simply replied.

Nodding slowly, Torres pushed her lips out, "So, you only know the press releases the Captain's made to the media?"

Her statement had worked and Calvin bristled, gesturing at her with his highball. "No, I know more than the tidbits that Bailey has been feeding the outlets." The portly man turned towards Sloan, effectively cutting Callie out of the conversation with his body and leaned towards Mark lowering his voice, "What's with the snotty bitch?"

"That snotty bitch is lead detective on the case and if you keep talking about it, you should probably fear for your safety," Sloan whispered.

He turned back to Callie, "You're in charge?" A disgusted sigh escaped from him before he continued, "And you're at a party. I'm so glad that we trust the city's safety entirely to you."

"I'm sure you think that you can do better?" Mark asked, quietly.

"Now, Mark," Callie patted her partner on his back as she scooted in beside him, "If we can trust the rumor mill of the Seattle police department, then we know that Detective Taylor gets his man or woman one way or another."

Calvin nodded in agreement and then narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean the rumor mill?"

"Oh you know, Calvin," Callie smiled humorlessly at him, "How you're a man that doesn't take no for an answer."

Mark cleared his throat and swallowed deeply, "Torres, you know, I think that maybe-"

He was interrupted by the hot whiskey breath of Taylor encroaching into Callie's space, "That complaint didn't have any truth in it. Dropped. Case closed."

"I hear there was more to it than that." Torres knew that she would be crossing a line very soon, if she hadn't already, but someone had put this asshole in his place, and had really needed to for a very long time.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Calvin said angrily.

"My, have the tables turned? Well…" The man in front of her stepped aside and Callie was finally able to order from the bar. She turned her back on the vice detective.

"She doesn't know what she's talking about," Calvin repeated to Mark. "False claims. I'm an excellent cop. And I've got more arrests in vice than any other detective or officer."

"Yes," Mark agreed, "You're _really good_ at your job. Everyone knows that."

Sloan kept his gaze on the weaving retreat of Calvin as he walked back to some of his friends at a table littered with empty bottles and glasses before turning back to Callie. Placing a hand on the small of her back, he leaned in, "You really had to go there with him when he's already in the bag?"

Callie looked over her shoulder as two glasses were set before her. She batted her eyelashes innocently, "I am certain that I do not know what you mean."

The bartender flipped a towel over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows at Mark, "A scotch neat and a dirty martini, please." He pulled a money clip out of his pocket and peeled out a tip, throwing it into the jar, "You know exactly what I mean," he smirked, "but I will say, well done, partner."

Callie smiled and shrugged, "Don't worry, he's not going to remember it anyway."

* * *

Bailey nodded to Lexie and waved her toward the table she stood next to, "I have some empty seats. Sit, sit," she motioned in front of her, then fussed with her dress.

Arizona followed Lexie toward the small woman across the room and placed her purse on the table, nervously. She had hoped that Callie wouldn't leave her alone too long in a room full of people she didn't know, and it was starting to feel like she hadn't seen her in days.

"Captain Bailey," Lexie motioned between her and Arizona, "This is Callie's date, Captain Arizona Robbins."

"Sure, Captain, I recognize you from photos Callie has in the office," Bailey said, extending a hand.

"Captain," Arizona smiled, her mouth dropping open in a light laugh. She grasped Bailey's hand and shook, "And you can just call me Arizona, the Captain is a formality from when I was in the Marines."

Bailey nodded, "Noted, Captain," she winked conspiratorially at Arizona, "And you can call me Miranda."

"Alright, Captain," Arizona answered. "I'm hoping the pictures you recognized me from are work appropriate."

Lexie jumped in, "Oh, it's just one of you in your flight suit on a helo pad during sunset and a couple that look like a rainy hike at Mount Rainer." The younger girl fluffed her rich brunette hair nervously, "Photographic memory." Lexie smiled weakly, as if to apologize.

Arizona's eyes flashed and Lexie turned to look behind her. There she watched Callie and Mark approaching and she thought how ruggedly handsome he was, especially in his formal wear. She blushed slightly and took a swallow of the drink he offered as soon as it was in her hands. She was nervous, not only to be there with Mark, but to be with his superior who outranked them both.

"You found a table," Mark said, pulling out a chair for his date.

Callie repeated the same statement, although in a much different tone to Arizona. "You found a table with my boss sitting at it."

Raising her eyebrows for a moment, Arizona grinned, "I did, in fact Captain Bailey called us over," she leaned in to place a soft kiss on Callie's cheek, "She was kind enough to let us sit here."

Callie narrowed her eyes for a moment as she brought her drink to her lips and let out a low hum before taking a sip. Licking the drop of alcohol off her bottom lip she scooted towards Arizona and stage whispered, "I don't want to drink and canoodle with my boss." She pouted slightly, "It's weird."

"I hope you're not going to canoodle with your boss, Detective," Arizona winked. "I would frown upon that." Her lips turned down and pouted, waiting for Callie's reaction.

Sitting back in her chair, Callie shook her head trying to hold back a smile, "You think you're so funny..."

"I am funny, Calliope," she replied, tossing her wavy hair over her shoulder and flashing her dimples at Callie. "Besides, look at her."

Callie's eyes shifted to her boss, who was downing her second drink and trying to convince Lexie that tequila shots were in order to officially welcome her to the force.

A series of trumpet blasts came from Arizona's clutch lying on the table and she winced as the mixed chorus started to belt out the Marine Hymn, "I'm so sorry. I forgot to put it on vibrate."

The smile worked its full way across Callie's face now, "You're such a nerd sometimes."

"Are you mocking my ringtone?"

Callie shook her head back and forth forcefully as she hazarded a glance at Mark who was laughing silently at them both before he mouthed, 'Smooth' to his partner with a wink and thumbs up.

"Of course not," Callie mumbled, when in fact, that was exactly what she was doing. Her ears perked up when she heard Arizona say, "Cristina, what's the matter?"

Arizona stood and placed her hand up, palm out, motioning to the table to please excuse her. She nodded her head to the ballroom exit, letting Callie know she was going to take the call in a quieter place.

Callie's alarm bells were already blaring in her brain when she heard Arizona say, "No, I'm at the police ball with Callie, Cristina."

Callie motioned between the two of them with her index finger and raised her eyebrows. In response, Arizona waved to follow her out of the room.

Arizona plugged her ear as the music from the ballroom filtered out into the vestibule, "Leave? I'm not leaving. I'm all dressed up at a ball."

"I don't care if you look like Cinderella and Princess Diana combined, you need to leave." Cristina's exasperated voice came over the partially garbled line. "Just listen to me, okay? Callie's bad for you. You need to leave." Her voice sounded stern and unemotional.

"What?" Arizona pressed the phone harder into her ear, sure that she misheard what was said. "What do you mean?"

"You shouldn't stay there. You'd be safer someplace else," Yang spit out.

"I'm in the safest place in the city right now, Cristina," Arizona said, frustrated.

"You're very wrong about that, Arizona." Yang countered with a long pause before continuing, "Pay attention to me and leave. Now."

Arizona's eyes traveled to her side as Callie touched the small of her back. "How do you know I'm wrong about this being a safe place, Cristina?"

"I just do," Yang stated flatly. "This is important. We're friends, right?"

"Of course we're friends," Arizona repeated, for Callie's benefit. The conversation was turning quite weird, really fast. She could see fear starting to creep into Callie's eyes.

"What did you do?" Arizona asked into the phone, wearily.

A short laugh came out of Yang, "I haven't done anything."

Footsteps sounded on the marble floors and Mark clapped, rubbing his hands together. The loud sound made both of the women jump. Arizona's phone clattered to the ground, spinning like a top as she bent down to retrieve it, and saw that the phone call had disconnected in the fall. Mark sucked in a breath through his teeth, "Sorry ladies, but the awards are next on the docket and I believe Torres is up for one."

"What?" Callie nearly shouted, almost panicked. "What did you do, Mark?" she asked, pointing a finger in his direction.

He turned on his heel and whistled, and without giving a reply, re-entered the ballroom.

"Shit," Callie said, looking back and forth between the door and Arizona, who was still staring at her phone.

Arizona sighed and crouched down to the floor to pick up her cell. Her thumb swiped over the cracked screen and she cursed under her breath before looking back at the eyes leveled at her in worry, "Go ahead, I'll be right behind you."

Inside the ballroom, they could hear applause, signaling the award ceremony was already underway. Callie nodded and headed back to their seats as Arizona tried to dial Yang with her broken phone. Reception was spotty, but the line was ringing.

Callie walked back to the table and brushed her hands down her dress nervously. She looked up at the stage as another award was being announced, "And for Most Improved Rookie, the award goes to..." the handsome man squinted for a moment, "Denny Duquette."

A loud whistle rambled around the room as a couple of officers cheered. A tall brunette man hopped up the stairs grinning, as the announcer continued, "Denny may be the oldest Rook in Seattle, but as the bachelor's auction showed us, his charm can bring in the dollars for charity."

Glancing over her shoulder, Callie saw Arizona slink back into the ballroom.

Back on stage the announcer said, "This next award goes to the unit that raised the most money for our Special Olympics charity this year. They participated in the Polar Bear Plunge and also raised money during The Great Kilted Run. Let's give it up - the Philanthropy Award goes to Special Response Team Two!"

Six men in kilts all approached the stage and the crowd went wild cheering for them. The emcee reached into a cardboard box and handed them a glass trophy which they all tried to hold as their picture was taken. They carried the smallest of the group on their shoulders off the stage and Callie couldn't help but laugh at the rollicking officers.

"Okay and now for the bragging rights portion of the evening. We have the Perfect Shot awards. Everyone wants it and only a few get it." The announcer smiled, "We have five winners tonight and out of those officers, two that qualified on different firearms. Perfect Shot goes to the officers that got one hundred percent on their qualifications. Would the following individuals please come up here to receive your awards:"

Callie glanced back to Arizona, who was leaning against the wall, still talking on her cell phone. She appeared agitated and jittery. Several gestures from her hands were exaggerated as she spoke.

"Timothy Booth."

"No, I don't understand why it's important for me to race away, Cristina. You can't act so sure of my safety being in danger and then pooh-pooh my questions." Arizona plugged her other ear with her finger and she strained to hear the voice over the applause for the names being listed off on the stage.

Cristina's voice lowered, "Why can't you trust me on this, Arizona?"

A bitter laugh emitted from her as she glanced up to see Callie's eyes on her. Arizona could tell she was worried from the way she kept pivoting her gaze to the podium and back toward her. "You haven't given me a whole lot to pin the trust on as of late, Yang."

"Josh Higgins," the announcer read, to another round of applause. One of the patrol officers sitting at a table in the far corner stood and headed to the stage.

Callie looked back at Arizona, her finger now in her ear and standing halfway out of the door.

From the stage, "Samuel Jones, one of our two weapon qualifiers," followed by more clapping. Callie took several confident strides across the floor, heading in Arizona's direction when Sloan caught her elbow and stopped her in her tracks.

"Don't go anywhere," he said softly to her.

"Calvin Taylor," the emcee read another name. Taylor ran to the stage flapping his arms, asking the audience for more praise.

"Something's wrong," Callie said, pointing to Arizona. "I have to go..."

"And Calliope Torres, our other two weapon qualifier!"

Arizona's attention snapped back to Callie upon hearing her name from the clunky speakers stacked up at her side. Mark was scooting her toward stage while trying to not step on her burgundy skirt in a dance that only elicited more boisterous applause from the surrounding police officers.

Arizona took a step closer to the table to get a better view of Callie on stage as a hand wrapped tightly around her left bicep and tugged her backwards. Nearly tripping over her feet, she tried to turn with the assailant. In a defensive maneuver, Arizona brought her left arm up roughly and twisted toward her body. She could feel the grip loosen and turned toward the vestibule to confront whoever had snuck up on her from behind. Steadying her balance, all the sounds behind her turned into white noise as her brain registered what was happening.

"Cristina," she called to her softly as Arizona tried to catch her eye line which kept darting back to the ballroom, "You're here?"

Stepping forward quickly, Cristina's voice cracked, "And you're leaving now, Arizona. I need you to leave."

She snatched Yang's hand and held it in her own, "I need you to talk to me. It's just you and me."

A tired sigh burst forth from her partner, "No, it's not."

"They're all preoccupied with having a fun night," Arizona waved dismissively at the room behind her.

"Yeah, well, they're going to have a big night in there, without you. You are not part of this. You're going home and tomorrow will be another day for you," Cristina said.

"Tomorrow will be another day for everyone, Cristina." Arizona edged backward a bit, uncertain how events were unfolding.

Stepping forward, something rattled in Yang's pockets. Arizona tried to concentrate on the noise, but it sounded like change was moving around, clanking against itself. Cristina shook her head, "For most, yes, it will be another day. But not for everyone."

Arizona's palm moved slowly upward at the implied threat, "Why don't we leave, together?"

Shaking her head slowly, Cristina looked down at the ground and her feet scuffed along the tiles, "Not gonna work, Robbins."

"Callie told me something I didn't believe, Cristina. We got in a huge fight about it. I left her."

Cristina shook her head. "Then why are you here with her tonight?" she asked, rather caustically.

"Because of the gun in the helicopter," Arizona started nodding her head. "Yeah, your Glock in the duffle bag?"

"What about it?" Cristina asked.

"It wasn't really your gun, was it? Was it, Cristina? You've been lying to me this whole time. And I trusted you! Trusted you more than anyone." Arizona's hands were shaking slightly as she pointed a finger at Cristina. Laugher in the background was incongruent with their situation and made Arizona feel even more uneasy.

Callie shifted her weight back and forth on the balls of her feet, cursing her choice in shoes, as she scanned the crowd again. On her forced walk up to the stage, she had lost sight of Arizona and the emcee kept prattling on about each precinct and weapon, then brought out the targets of each of the Perfect Shot recipients. It was all taking far too long.

She caught Mark's eye and motioned her chin toward the last place she saw her rattled girlfriend. Callie was thankful they had finally reached a point of silent communication when she saw Mark lean down and whisper something to Bailey before heading away from the table.

Her eyes traveled with him. Mark buttoned his jacket and she could see the outline of his piece, and felt a little bit better knowing that at least he was so engrained as an officer that his Glock was always with him.

"It was my gun, Arizona," Cristina said, maneuvering to see inside the ballroom.

"It was Callie's weapon," Arizona stated rather mater-of-factly, even if she was still a little unsure herself. To her, Cristina seemed to have come completely unhinged, so she pushed her to see what would happen. "Say it, Cristina. It's was Callie's weapon."

"Okay, fine. It was Callie's weapon. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Cristina spit out angrily. Arizona could tell that she didn't actually mean the words she said. Cristina took a step forward, her eyes fixated on the stage.

"No, I want to hear you say that no one is going to get hurt tonight." Arizona's right hand drifted to her thigh and edged along the slit in her dark green skirt.

"Say it, Cristina," Mark's deep voice said from behind Arizona. He unbuttoned the leather strap on his holster.

She grimaced and shook her head at them. "Oh, no. You're not going to ruin this now."

Arizona tilted her head to her right to nod at Mark as his hand rested over his sidearm. He returned her gesture slowly and took in a deep breath before releasing it, as he saw the glint of silver from Arizona's thigh. He felt the tick of a smile try to work its way onto his face as he thought about how hot thigh holsters were, especially when attached to tanned legs.

"Cristina," Arizona warned softly, "don't do anything stupid."

"I'd do what your Captain tells you, Yang." Mark added.

They both watched as her arm quickly moved into her pocket and her hand clenched around something. Both Mark and Arizona drew their weapons, at the same time yelling over each other at Yang.

"Stand down!"

"Freeze!"

At the sound of the commotion, party goers in the ballroom turned to see Detective Sloan training his firearm on a blonde woman in a party dress. Several of the nearby officers who were also armed pulled their weapons on Arizona. Gasps could be heard from around the room and suddenly it fell into silence.

"Drop it, Cristina!" Marked yelled. "Drop it now or I will fire this weapon!"

"Well now, look at what you've done." Cristina threw her hands up showing that she was only holding a set of car keys in her right hand.

Pulling his gun down into a resting position, Mark's eyebrows furrowed, "You were getting your keys?" He turned toward Arizona and was surprised to find her weapon still trained on Yang. "Arizona, it's just a set of keys."

"Exactly, Mark," Arizona glanced to the ballroom and saw guns trained on her, "Put your gun back on her."

She watched Yang's thumb move slowly across the keys, almost caressing them, and repeated her direction to Mark, feeling him move his stance back to Cristina.

"Arizona, it's just my keys," Yang parroted Mark's assertion.

Blonde curls moved back and forth as Arizona shook her head, "The fob could be a detonator, Cristina. Drop the keys and kick them to us."

Rolling her eyes, Yang snorted, "The war made you crazy."

"It made me cautious." She pointed with her weapon, "Now drop the keys to the ground and kick them to us."

On the stage, Callie watched the scene unfold in horror. She felt completely helpless, standing with an award in her hand which demonstrated her prowess with a firearm that she was not holding. The next few moments happened in slow motion.

Callie turned to take action, thinking it would go unnoticed since Cristina's attention was focused elsewhere. But as she did, the vice detective next to her, Calvin Taylor, who was still very intoxicated, shouted out, "Don't listen to her!"

Against her better judgment, a distracted Arizona turned her head to look at where the sound originated. Cristina seized that split second of opportunity, and pressed the alarm button on the set of keys in her hand.

Instantaneously, an explosion shuddered through the room, sending waves of vibration and heat outward from the stage. Arizona ducked and turned back to Cristina immediately, firing two rounds at her center of mass as she took cover close to the ground.

Mark also fired several rounds at Cristina, one of them hitting her squarely in the thigh before the force of the explosion sent him to the floor, onto his knees. He hit the ground hard and his gun clattered from his hand.

Chaos caused the officers that had trained their guns onto the two women to point at the only one still standing. A young rookie's arms shook slightly as he watched the smoke pour from his gun. The sweat dripped down his brow as he glanced over his shoulder and then back at Arizona. He blinked twice, his shot had connected in her upper right arm. She now held the firearm out with her left hand as she scooted forward toward the fallen woman.

"Drop your weapon!" he yelled.

Arizona did not slow her approach, watching for the tell-tale signs of breathing from Yang's chest. She saw an intake of breath and a sigh of relief washed over her for a moment.

The sounds of the ballroom threatened to slide her back to the desert as the screams from guests covered by the familiar barks of order from the police filtered over the noise of fire. The IED, an improvised explosive device, the bane of the Marine's existence in the Middle East, had followed her home.

"Ma'am, drop your weapon."

Her gaze fell on the soldier and she shook her head slightly, trying to knock away the sandbox. She looked at the young officer again, "Assessing the situation, Officer. Stand down or provide backup."

Mark pushed himself to his knees and stood, scrambling in Cristina and Arizona's direction. Lexie had taken off at a run the moment she saw Arizona's arm bleeding. They met her at the same time.

"Arizona, you're hurt!" Lexie said, pressing a cloth napkin to her arm.

Sloan nodded to Yang on the ground, "I got this." He reached for his shoulder radio, forgetting he was not currently in the line of duty, but at a party. The years on the street were still ingrained in him. Instead, he reached for the phone in his pocket.

"No, don't help me," Arizona batted away Lexie's attention. She let out a slight wince when Lexie's hands deftly tied the cloth around her arm into a makeshift compress. A quick thought ran through her that Grey would be a good medic in the field.

Arizona was delaying the evitable, she looked into Lexie's eyes, "Is Callie… did you see?" She swallowed and searched the younger woman's face. Arizona had lost her brother to an IED and he had been in protective gear. Callie wasn't wearing riot gear; she was wearing a ball gown.

Lexie's mouth dropped open, "I don't... I don't know… Arizona," Lexie's platitudes were cut off as Arizona quickly holstered her weapon and turned to the crowd. She shouldered through the mass of bodies trying to get to the smoldering stage.

"Callie!" she screamed, shoulder checking some of the men around her. She was drowning in panic in the crowd, unheard. Other people were barking orders around her, women in the background were sobbing hysterically. "Callie!" she tried again, finding the smallest holes in the mob and squeezing through them.

She reached the front as someone was putting out a small fire with an extinguisher, sweeping it from side to side in short bursts. A thick, dense cloud of smoke rose from the stage, and the fire alarm sounded, causing water sprinklers to turn on overhead.

Some people were assessing their injuries, others were receiving primitive medical attention from the first people who made it to the stage, and some were heading for exits. Arizona looked around, eyes darting all over the stage, frantically trying to find Callie.

She glanced off the edge and felt a small amount of relief as she saw Bailey holding onto Callie's hand. It seemed that she had taken a header off the stage, succeeding in breaking the legs off of a table.

Arizona squinted. She couldn't make out what the Captain was saying, but she noticed that Callie wasn't moving. She walked quickly to the edge of the stage and hopped down to the floor, thankful the drop wasn't but a few feet.

The tight smile on Bailey's face was difficult to read and caused Arizona to try to assess Callie's injuries on her own. Soot was smudged all over Callie's face and her eyes were closed, giving her the appearance of a child who had played too hard in the muck. "Calliope?" she said hopefully, although her voice was also mixed with a touch of fear.

Callie's eyes fluttered open, with difficulty and she mumbled, "I'm okay. My leg hurts, but I'm okay. Just dizzy. Really, dizzy."

A burst of laughter came out of Arizona as she cupped Callie's cheek, "Well, humor me while I check you out, okay?"

She glanced at Bailey for a moment before shifting to Callie's legs, "Both of them?" Her eyes moved over the fabric for any noticeable bleeding or signs of a broken bone. Arizona noticed that only one shoe still clung to Callie's foot as she slowly moved the fabric up, exposing her calves.

"Just the right one. Searing, hot, constant, and kinda throbby. Throbby pain." Callie replied, grimacing as Arizona probed at her.

"It looks like you have some fragments from the explosion in here," Arizona said as she examined several injuries on her leg. She looked over her shoulder. "I need a medic."

"You are a medic, Arizona," Callie said, briefly concerned with the remark.

"Okay, I need some supplies," Arizona corrected herself.

Bailey clapped her hands together, "Okay, tell me what you need."

* * *

Mark had called for paramedics and backup at the scene and was sure he could already hear sirens in the distance. The water from the sprinklers was falling directly overhead from where he stood and dripped from his nose as he knelt down to check on Cristina Yang. He took off his coat and balled it up, putting direct pressure on her chest. With his free hand, he checked for a pulse, which was still there. Her breathing was very shallow and irregular.

Lexie knelt next to him, her dress clinging to her and her wet hair and sticking to her face. "What the hell, Mark?"

"She detonated it from the keys in her hand," he said, shaking his head. "I guess she planted something on the stage."

Lexie pulled open Yang's fingers and looked at the set of keys held within. "These are that burn victim's keys, Mark," she said excitedly. "We've got confirmation that we've linked her to that case!"

"What are you talking about?" Mark asked, clearly distracted, his eyes on the entrance waiting for the paramedics to arrive.

"The keys. It looks like there's one for an apartment or house, a lock that could go on a gym locker, and a safety deposit box. That's what was on the victim's missing key ring!" Lexie said. Sometimes she forgot that not everyone had a photographic memory and was a little slower in putting things together.

A gravelly voice erupted through the room, "What have we got here? Is this the multiple GSW?"

Mark's attention snapped toward the medic approaching the group and waved him over. He glanced at the name badge, "Karev, I've been applying pressure after the perp went down. I laid one in at the leg. We've used a tablecloth to try to tourniquet the bleeding off there, but the chest wounds..." he trailed off.

"Good," Alex nodded at Sloan before turning to the body on the ground, "Holy shit!" He ran a hand down his face before dropping to his knees and opening up his kit.

Lexie sighed, "Yeah, I know the shots were pretty..."

He shook his head, "No, I know her. She used to ride with me."

Lexie nodded in silence, wrapped her hand in a wet napkin and slipped the keys out of Cristina's hand before Karev began his work. She wanted to make sure that they made it to the police department and didn't get lost along the way.

"Lexie," Mark said quietly as he watched the paramedic work. His eyes briefly moved to the stage, then back at Yang. "Where is Torres? Did Robbins find her?"

She rose to her full height and smiled easily, "I bet she has, but why don't I go check?" Turning toward the room, Lexie knew that she had to make sure the scene wasn't compromised as best she could and cussed under her breath about not having a camera for some initial shots. Next time she would pick a larger clutch, just in case. Right now she would just have to rely on her memory, which was almost as good as a camera.

* * *

Arizona's brow wrinkled in confusion, "This shrapnel looks like coins," she looked back at Callie and shook her head, "And keys?"

"I have keys in my leg?" Callie rubbed her head. "I think I fell too hard because that didn't make any sense."

"I guess it could just be part of a key," Arizona said, trying not to move anything.

"Did you say keys?" The women all turned to see Lexie standing behind them, dripping wet. The CSI waved awkwardly. "Um," she brushed at her dress which had splotches of blood stains on it, "I'm sorry, there are keys in her leg?"

The obvious amazement and interest caused Arizona to arch and eyebrow at her for a moment, and Lexie blanched before a blush crept up her neck. "I didn't mean it how it sounded." She paused and then tilted her head to the side with a wince, "Actually, I kinda did. Keys seemed to be a, well…" she let out a nervous laugh, "a key component in all of the files."

Callie watched as Lexie's nose wrinkled as she pointed at the leg that was sending a Morse code of pain to her, "You have evidence in your leg, Torres!"

"Well get it out, Grey! That's your job, isn't it?" Callie pointed to her wounds.

"No!" Arizona yelled, swatting at Callie's hand. "You can't take it out, you might bleed out."

"Well, I don't want hunks of metal in my leg. Airport security would be a nightmare."

Arizona rolled her eyes. "Just hang tight until we can transport you to the hospital. You're relatively stable right now."

"And what about you?" Lexie asked, touching Arizona's gunshot wound delicately.

"What happened to you!" Callie asked, suddenly trying to sit upright.

"Whoa, whoa," Bailey put her palm on Callie's shoulder and pushed her back to the ground.

Arizona shook her head and droplets of water flew in a circle around her, "Nothing. I'm fine." Her statement was undercut by the quick breath sucked in through her teeth as Lexie looked around for a dry piece of fabric to change the makeshift bandage. She shrugged for a moment and fished up her skirt. "Lexie Grey you will not use your underwear on my arm." Arizona stated flatly.

Rolling her eyes, Lexie corrected her, "It's a slip. It would help to get more pressure and I'd like to see if the bullet is still in there."

"It's not," Arizona answered. "It's a through and through. The police department should have more mandatory target practice and make sure that they are not shooting the good guys."

"I'm a good shot," Callie furrowed her brows. "I got an award."

Arizona patted her knee and said dismissively, "Not you, Honey." Turning her attention back to Lexie, she said, "You should get out of here until the scene is completely secured."

Lexie nodded, "Okay, I'll meet you at the hospital. It looks like they're going to Seattle Grace. It's got the best trauma unit."

* * *

Arizona felt the thumb running back and forth on her hand. It was supposed to be calming, but it wasn't working. "I don't see why they had to take her into surgery."

"It's minimal surgery, like a baby surgery, right Lexie?" Mark tossed a look over his shoulder. Lexie was scribbling notes over a medical chart that seemed to be some shorthand chicken scratch about the scene. Meredith had given them scrubs to change into while they waited. "Lex?"

"Hm?" glancing up, Lexie nodded, "Oh, yeah, Meredith said it would be in and out."

Arizona fixed a hard stare on them both, "That was hours ago."

"Robbins," Mark tugged their joined hand towards his face. He hid his mouth behind them for a moment before he got her attention, and dropped their hands to rest his chin on the knuckles. "That was exactly one hour ago."

"It feels longer than that. I've already gotten stitches and everything," she said, pulling away from Mark.

"I'm sure she's completely fine," Mark said in his most calming voice. "If she wasn't fine, we'd know about it. They've already come out to inform us of Officer Taylor's death."

Lexie ducked her head as Arizona repeatedly slapped his shoulder. It was exactly the wrong thing to say.

"She was standing right next to that man," Arizona yelled at him while she continued hitting him with her good arm. "You are not helping!"

"Mark," Lexie warned kindly, "maybe you should," she made a motion like she was locking her mouth with an imaginary key.

"Hey guys," Meredith approached with a smile.

Arizona scooted toward the edge of her seat and quickly grabbed Mark's hand again, squeezing down hard. "Is she okay?"

Meredith nodded, "She's in recovery right now; she did great." Her eyes traveled to her sister, "And the remnants from the leg did include metal fragments from AA coins and keys, from what we could tell. Let her know that once they go through the pathology department, she can request her trophies back."

"Thank you," Arizona's shoulders slumped down with relief. "Can I see her?"

Chuckling softly Meredith motioned, "I'm not supposed to let you in, but you've got connections. Let's take a peek."

"Did you hear that?" Lexie asked in shock.

Mark smiled, "Yeah, my partner is a trooper."

"No, Mere said trophies," Lexie raised her eyebrows, "Do you think the AA coins and the keys were trophies?"

"I suppose that would be a good way to dispose of them so we didn't find them," Mark thought, rubbing his chin. "Maybe she knew that we were on her trail."

* * *

Meredith pulled back the privacy curtain and looked back at Arizona, "Now she'll be out of it for a while yet, but you're free to stay here while she wakes up. I'll be your guard dog." She lightly touched Arizona's shoulder, "You're one of us, anyway."

Starting to backpedal, her Chucks squeaked on the tile and she smiled demurely, "I'll just let you two have some time. I'll be at the desk if you need me."

Arizona turned her attention to the figure in the bed that seemed to be asleep. She pulled up a chair and felt a weight lift off of her, "Okay, Calliope. Whenever you're ready, I'll be here."

_Attacks come in all forms, from subtle and slow to obvious and fast, but it's the subtle and fast that is a shock to the system. Sometimes the blitz is over before the victim can even understand what happened. _

Arizona repeated, "Whenever you're ready," and slipped her hand within Callie's, then settled in to wait.


	13. Epilogue: In the End

**Disclaimer: **We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on _Grey's Anatomy_ which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably _Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Castle, Law and Order_and _CSI_. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained.

**Ratings:**Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time or all in this episode.

**Feedback:**Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.

**Story Information:**This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters' lives, but not who they are as a person. Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, and Miranda Bailey work for the Seattle Police Department. Captain Arizona Robbins and Cristina Yang are paramedics. Lexie Grey is a crime scene technician. Crime, injuries, and death occur in their city as Callie and Arizona get to know one another on a more personal level.

**Author's Note: We would like to thank everyone for getting on this crazy ride with us and sticking to the end. Your comments, theories, and prodding reminders that you were still out there waiting for an update made this so much more fun to write than just amusing one another. For any new readers, hey look! It's a completed story! Let us know what you think and we hope to see you around for our next silly journey. - Bren and Nik  
**

**Epilogue: In the End**

Mark stood at the edge of a casket draped with an American flag and fell to parade rest at the command. He placed his white gloved hands at the small of his back with elbows bent and silently stared ahead as the funeral services continued. As the clergyman spoke, several people wept. Mark, however, angrily eyed the television cameras making a spectacle out of a somber moment for the police department and city. Two of their officers had fallen in the line of duty.

Arizona crumpled the tissue in her right hand for a moment and then released it. She repeated the movement as she watched the sharp turns and snaps of the officers in uniform turning toward the caskets. They weren't coffins. She was used to those from the transport she volunteered for after Timothy's death. Coffins were plain and in her opinion held the flag better than the slick caskets in this procession.

On each side they began to fold the flags. A puff of breath worked up from her lungs and pitched her body forward for a moment. Her eyes closed tight and she could see her father clicking a stop watch as she raced with Timothy to fold a flag properly for travel. He always won. Arizona claimed it was because of his ogre like hands, but her father would wink at her as he knew that she let Timothy win.

The warmth of a hand slid into her own and her eyes fluttered open to see the exchange of the perfectly folded flags now being handed off to the sergeant. As he turned toward them, her breath caught.

"You okay?" Lexie whispered to Arizona as she gripped her hand firmly.

Arizona nodded in the affirmative but did not speak. She just watched as the sergeant put a crisply folded flag in the hands of a devastated family who was barely holding it together and remembered when a similar flag was placed in her mother's hands. Flags did not make up for those lost protecting our cities.

The flag was followed by the presentation of a medal, the Police Cross, the highest honor given to officers, usually posthumously.

Arizona felt the tissue being tugged lightly out of her hand and winced as the pain reverberated through her arm, seeming to circle around her wound. She glanced to her right and felt her heart sink for a moment. "That's my only one," her whisper rasped out harshly against the still air.

At least Seattle was being agreeable today with the weather.

"Attention!"

At the command, the officers present all stood at attention, their movements uniform and precise.

"Present arms!"

The firing detail lifted their rifles and another command, "Fire!" as it was given by their sergeant. The seven officers of the tactical response team, this time not wearing their kilts, fired three volleys. Immediately following the third shot, taps began playing in the distance and Arizona couldn't hold it together any longer.

The strains of the bugle calling from somewhere in the graveyard always had a bit of romance tied to it. The brass cut through those who listened as a final call of the person who was before them. It meant the end of the day at dusk, but here it called on the end of life. Arizona tried to breathe through it, but the tears slowly rolled down her face from everything she had lost.

Sticking her chin out proudly, she heard the stiff uniform jacket rub along the sling that pressed her arm to her chest. Her good arm had been overtaken by Lexie, who she was sure was not going to relinquish it anytime soon, and while the physical contact was nice, it wasn't what she needed.

A strong hand fell to her thigh and she glanced to her right and saw brown eyes staring back at her. Callie smiled, the scrapes and bruises were slowly trying to fade away on her face, but they still cut her to the quick. Arizona had lost a lot in her life and she wasn't sure if she was crying now because of those memories, or because the call of the taps was thankfully not for Callie.

Tears can be puzzling things, but Arizona focused on the sensation of the hand running lightly back and forth on her thigh, because the tears didn't matter today. No, today Callie was still with her, unlike so many others she had loved and lost.

As taps ended, the honor guard was dismissed and several people starting moving about the gravesite. Lines formed to lay flowers on top of the caskets and Callie stood carefully on her crutches as Mark approached the group. He was eyeing someone over Callie's left shoulder and she turned to look at what caught his attention, trying to do so inconspicuously.

In the back of the crowd two young girls stood, one with solemn demeanor, the other with a wide grin on her face. They were not wearing formal attire, but jeans and t-shirts, and looked out of place. Callie understood Mark's watchful eye.

The smiling girl then took her companion's hand. Callie watched her mouth form the words, "I've seen enough," and then she turned and left the gravesite.

xOxOxO

The wooden chair creaked as Mark leaned backwards, putting his cover on the windowsill. He sighed heavily, being in the funeral detail was always something he took pride in, but today's left a sour taste in his mouth. Feeling Lexie lean into his shoulder, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her toward him, and inhaled deeply, trying to block out the thoughts that circled since he saw the frail woman walk into the back of the crowd. Her stance changed, her shoulders rolled back and he could see she felt vindicated.

"Mark?"

Across the table, the knowing look from his partner required information. "It's nothing," he said, blowing her off. "What would you ladies like?"

His chair scooted angrily against the floor as he tried to get to his full height before Lexie's hands pushed him back down into his seat.

"I'll get this one. I remember everyone's tastes." She smiled meekly and turned toward the bar.

Arizona fought with her jacket in an exaggerated dance that reminded Mark of a bullfighter getting caught up in his own cape. He chuckled, until he caught the death glare leveled at him, "Need help?"

"I got this," Callie said, helping Arizona with her jacket. "But why don't you go ahead and tell me what's going on in that brain of yours instead of skirting the issue?"

Mark shook his head and sat back down. "What issue?"

"The grinning girl at Taylor's funeral. You know who she was, don't you?" Callie pressured him. The information he had must be good if he was keeping it in. Mark was a gossip and had been on the department longer than she had, so he always knew all the best information.

Mark leaned forward and brushed the broken peanut shells off of the table. He glanced around the sparse company in the bar before looking back at the women in front of him. He ran a hand down his cleanly shaven face, missing the rough contrast of facial hair for a moment. "That was Ashley Cunconan."

The name seemed to drift in the air between them before Callie nodded her head and raised her eyebrows, "And?"

He squinted his eyes and let out a humorless chuckle, "You're joking, right? She was the woman who took Calvin to trial for sexual assault."

"Oh, shit," Callie said, recalling as much as she could of the woman at the funeral. "So what, she came to make sure he was dead?"

"I don't know what happened between them. All I know is that he was found not guilty by a jury of his peers," Mark said quietly.

"Come on, Mark," Callie rolled her eyes. "Every woman on the department thought he was a slimeball." She noticeably shivered.

Arizona cleared her throat, "Let's not speak ill of the dead, okay?"

Glasses clinked together as Lexie returned with her impressive bar order. Somehow she was able to carry four pint glasses in her hands and four shot glasses hugged tightly to her chest by her arms. Arizona could tell that she either was a waitress growing up or a bartender herself, but her eyebrows rose as she saw the dark beer being pushed towards her.

"I thought you said you knew what we all drank?" she questioned with a smirk.

Lexie blushed, "Well, I do, but these are on special and I mean, who doesn't like an Irish car bomb?"

Callie started laughing and nodding her head in approval. "A bomb got us into this mess, we might as well have one bring us out!" She held her shot glass high over the half pint. "Cheers!"

Mark mimicked his partner, grinning at Arizona who looked less than thrilled at the shot glass being pushed into her hand, "Oh, come on, Robbins, I know you kicked it back in the day. Or do you think that you'll be the last one done?"

He could barely hold back his joy as he saw the flash of anger reach her eyes. Mark wondered what it would be like to go toe to toe with the Marine that was still lurking inside her, but for now he would just go pint to pint.

They all lifted the shot glasses and Lexie's voice chimed in, "A toast," her voice wavered as she looked at the impatient eyes before putting her shot glass in the center of the group.

"For every wound, a balm."

She smiled at the two women to her right.

"For every sorrow, a cheer."

Lexie caught Mark's eyes as she remembered her father.

"For every storm, a calm. For every thirst, a beer!"

The shot glasses all hit together before they were dropped quickly into the dark liquid.

xOxOxO

The heavily barred metal door rolled behind her and closed with a loud and ominous echo that reverberated on the institutional tile. Overhead a fluorescent light hummed loudly, then faded the further Arizona walked down the hall. Visiting hours at the prison were nearly over for the day, and she had managed to get the last scheduled time. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for what she was about to see.

She entered a room with a wall of seats, each positioned in front of a window with a telephone. The other side mirrored hers, except for the increased security. Arizona sat down on an uncomfortable wooden stool and waited.

Within a few minutes a woman in an orange jumpsuit was escorted into the room and locked inside, alone. Cristina Yang slowly walked to the chair opposite of Arizona and sat down gingerly. She winced and held her side as she carefully reached for the phone and smiled weakly.

"Hey there, Lemondrop."

Arizona sat still for a moment, unsure of how to greet Yang. Her vision focused on the handcuffs and the chain that led down to a circle, hugging loosely around the jumpsuit.

"Focused on the waistline, are you?" Cristina's teasing tone brought her eyes back up to meet the face of someone she recognized for a moment. "I find the belted metal to be slimming."

The banter felt easy to slip into and Arizona decided to take the safe course for now. "Well, they do say that orange is in this summer." She smiled, for a moment it felt right, genuine, until it didn't.

"Why, Cristina?"

Yang laughed bitterly. "Why? Why what? Why am I still in this place?" She shook her head. "You've got me. Why did they set my bail so high? No one has that kind of money, right?"

"Cristina," Arizona didn't expect the pleading in her voice. It caused both women to break eye contact.

"I didn't do anything wrong," shifting the receiver on her ear with her shoulder, Yang smiled softly, "I didn't plan for you to be hurt, Arizona. That was unfortunate."

"I don't care about a gunshot wound. I care about you intentionally setting off a device that killed two police officers and injured countless other people." She took a deep breath and calmed herself. "I came here to understand. My injury will heal, but I don't know if my psyche and faith in others will. The Cristina Yang that I know could never do anything like what happened."

Scooting toward the glass barrier, Cristina sighed, "Okay, there was an incendiary device there. It wasn't meant to harm anyone."

Arizona gripped the phone tightly, "Stop lying to me."

"Because you've been truthful with me, Lemondrop?" Cristina leaned closer and bent down, looking up into Arizona's face quizzically. "You actually think that I would harm innocent civilians?"

"I have a hard time believing either version," Arizona said, truthfully. Emotionally she was torn. Her friend Cristina wasn't capable of murder. She was a woman after her own heart, who worked by her side every day. "You save lives, Cristina."

Nodding with conviction, Cristina smiled, "Exactly, I do save lives, Arizona. Every action I have made in my life is to protect those that cannot protect themselves. I save lives, Arizona. Every day I work toward saving another."

Cristina's fingers were drawing something on the table in front of her and Arizona watched the loops and lines, "Are you drawing a heart?" Her nose crinkled in confusion, "An anatomically correct heart?"

She watched as the hand bunched together and Cristina's fingers flared out, stretching as if reaching for something before being pulled back into a tight fist. "Every day I save innocent people by taking away what is killing them left and right. I get there faster, respond quicker than any EMT in Seattle. I'm the first responder. I'm the best at what I do."

"I agree with you." Arizona watched her quietly for a moment and then said softly, "You're a hero to many people. But you're a villain to others. The police, the district attorney... they are not your friends. They are accusing you of some really horrible things. And I would never believe them, but I saw you that night at the Police Ball."

xOxOxO

Lexie watched as the pen clicked again in a series of three. The assistant district attorney sat toward the end of the long metal table, his hair a floppy mop top, fell in front of his eyes again. He was endearing to her, but as the series of clicks rattled off the cinder blocks in the interview room, she decided he also was somewhat oblivious.

She leaned forward smiling, "I'm sure the Detectives will be here soon. They were changing out of their uniforms from the funeral."

"What?" the clicking stopped like a blessing. He laughed nervously, "I'm sure that Detectives Sloan and…" he paused, seeming to digest something for a moment, "Torres will be here when they're here, Miss Grey."

His hands went to his tie, smoothing it down his front for the fourth time since he sat down with her. "O'Malley, right?" She knew she was right, she was always right with names and faces.

"I'm sorry?" He squinted nervously and smiled, the blue in his eyes sneaking through the cracks, "Yes, ADA George O'Malley. I'm sorry if I seem nervous. I just-"

The door creaked open and the tapping noise of crutches announced Callie's entrance. She gave a taunt smile to the lawyer as he stood, "George."

He stuttered, "Callie."

Lexie's mouth opened to an 'o' for a moment until she snapped it shut. Something about their greeting seemed a little too familiar, and a little less professional.

Bailey followed behind the homicide Detectives and closed the door behind them. She pulled out a chair at the head of the table and said, "Let's get this started. We have a lot of material to start sorting through."

George smoothed his tie again and pulled out a chair for Callie, trying to help her maneuver with her crutches. As they were seated he said, "I don't mean to be rude Captain Bailey, but can you tell me why Lexie Grey is here? I had asked for just the main detectives familiar with these cases."

Lexie suddenly wished she had slapped his annoying pen clicking hand when she had the chance.

"You'll thank me later, George. She's got an encyclopedia for a brain and was involved in a lot of the crime scenes. You might as well become really comfortable with these folks. They'll be testifying for you if you can get it together enough to go to trial." Bailey gave Grey a reassuring look that didn't set her remotely at ease.

"Very well," O'Malley replied and opened a giant binder and yellow legal pad. "I've reviewed all the notes and reports that you've generated on these cases so far, and I have to tell you, we're going to need a lot more evidence to link these cases than what we've got to go on now."

Callie sighed heavily. She knew that this case was going to be all consuming for George until trial was over. "There wasn't a great deal of evidence, George. And I can guarantee you that the things we used to link these crimes, and the instincts we have when it comes to investigations are not going to be enough for your silly law books."

"I guess we're about to find out," George said, turning to the first case. "Let's work chronologically."

"This feels like it's going to be a giant waste of time," Callie said, rolling her eyes. Promptly, Mark kicked her foot under the table.

"That's easy," Sloan remarked with a smile, "The first guy's keys were used at the last scene that killed two cops." He winked at Lexie, acknowledging the fact that she was the one to put it together in the first place.

George nodded, "Yes, but there are chain of custody issues in regards to those keys," he said, flipping through his notebook. "They went missing from the tow lot, didn't they?"

"Because they were stolen by Cristina Yang," Mark countered.

A hand worked its way through the beginnings of curls on George's neck, "You can't leap in a case on custody. The defense will drive a truck through holes and create reasonable doubt. You can't prove that they are the same keys. They have no documentation." He grimaced for a moment, "If you want to link all the cases, you have to have more than a he-said-she-said battle."

George looked at the unimpressed faces staring back at him around the table. He was sure he had put his foot in his mouth, as he knew he had a tendency to do. Thankfully the door rattled open and a tall strawberry blonde man stepped in with a sure and easy smile.

The bevy of eyes switched to the new intruder.

"Sorry," he grinned, pearly white teeth seemed to glisten in the darkened room. "I didn't mean to interrupt," the perfect scruff along his cheeks only seemed to make him more handsome. The contrast between the assistant district attorney and the new man was evident as he slid into a chair next to O'Malley.

"I'm Dr. Andrew Perkins. I'll be the criminal psychologist working the case." His gaze landed on each individual at the table before smiling widely at Lexie, "Miss Grey, pleasure to see you again."

"You too, Doctor," she said before averting her eyes, shyly.

"Listen, I'm sorry to do this to you, but I have some scheduled appointments later in the day. I was hoping we could talk about the criminal profile, personality, and motive right away so I can sneak out of here while the rest of you discuss the case specifics. I'd like to try to stay as unbiased as possible through these proceedings." He flashed another smile.

Callie muttered to Mark, "Wouldn't we all?"

xOxOxO

Arizona's hand ran over the imperfections of the formica table that fused her into the same physical space as Cristina. It was odd as the indentions were smooth to the touch, just small bumps that changed the surface, like a ripple effect throughout the table.

"My father's death was the motivating factor in my need to save others."

The voice crackled over the phone in her hand and Arizona's eyes flicked back up to see Yang mimicking her movements. "You had mentioned that before. How do you save others, Hun?"

She was aware that her tactic in using a pet name might not work, but she felt the need to try something to keep her talking.

"There is no how, Arizona. You just do it," Yang said shortly. "It's my job. I have to do it. You understand that, don't you?"

xOxOxO

"The killing escalated because she was compelled to do it. It was an impulse that she couldn't control. But because Cristina has a lot of intimate knowledge of criminal and police procedure, she's a very interesting case study," the psychologist paused and took a drink from the glass of water sitting in front of him.

"The first thing we need to discuss is the fantasy and plan she's following. It's quite extensive, and very rigid. She has very clear black and white rules."

Mark leaned back in his chair and nodded, "She targeted alcoholics with a past record."

"Yes, but it goes further than that," Andrew scratched at his five o'clock shadow, "The victims in our terms were still criminals in hers because they had not been served justice as she deemed appropriate."

"Her rules," Lexie ventured, "they exist from her formative years. She's harkening back to the right and wrong of childhood. When you do wrong, you are punished."

She glanced at Bailey and then Callie, "So the event that caused her rule making comes from her childhood, right? A trauma from her childhood."

"Her father's death," Callie said flatly, "He was killed by a drunk driver."

"The method and manner of murder usually spring from the fantasy world created. But in this case, Cristina kept changing her M.O. because she is familiar with the police. The things that didn't change, however, is her victim type. Always people with drinking problems, or recovered from drinking problems that have a criminal history, or an accused criminal history." Dr. Perkins nodded to Lexie. "Except in the case of your father, correct?"

"Right," Lexie nodded. "He's never fit the pattern."

"Cristina is a paramedic. She's in public service and feels a brotherhood with the police department, and in conjunction, probably every single one of you," he motioned around the room.

"Not me," Callie piped in. "I can most certainly confirm that."

xOxOxO

"So why did you take Callie's gun?" Arizona took careful note of Cristina's body posture as she asked the question, but there was no change in physicality at all. In her story of how her father's death shaped her code of ethics in human service, her words seemed so open, but her mechanics of movement were so precise, as if she was doing another take of the same scene in which she had to keep continuity.

Yang sighed for a moment, "That was my gun, Arizona. It's a common gun. I had a permit."

"Okay, then where is it now? Prove it to me."

"I have no idea," Cristina pressed on. "The cops tossed my place when I was taken into custody. Did they find my gun during that search?"

Arizona shook her head, "No."

"I don't know where it is then," Cristina offered nothing more.

xOxOxO

The sound of the photographs sliding off one another seemed to screech and snap in a haunting metronome to Callie as she looked at the increased wrinkle on George's head. He was worried, and she was too, about the findings at Yang's apartment.

"It says in your report, Detective, that the apartment was sparsely decorated, but this looks like a hotel room." He flicked around a photo of a workroom, "Here we have a sort of scrapbooking room without a shred of paper, just a wide assortment of pens and pencils."

Mark cleared his throat, "There were only two photos in the entire house. They were in the bedroom. One of the suspect and her father," he swallowed audibly before continuing, "And another of Yang and her medevac pilot, Arizona Robbins."

George looked over to Andrew and spoke quietly, "She is, um," he glanced at Callie and back to the doctor, "involved with Detective Torres."

Pulling the shots of the bedroom out, Dr. Perkins smiled at Torres, "She looks lovely, Detective."

"So she trusts the medevac pilot." He thought for a moment. "I think that is why she doesn't like Torres. While she's not romantically interested in-" he searched for the pilot's name.

"Arizona," Callie helped the man out, since she didn't want to watch him ruffle through his papers, or subject herself to what he was about to say.

"Arizona, she is still jealous of you and the time you spend with her. But there is a level of trust in the police department. She feels a kinship with Lexie Grey as well."

"Me? Why me?" Lexie asked, her eyes darting to Mark.

Mark extended his legs under the table and tapped his toe against hers before giving her a comforting smile. He could tell that Lexie's brain was already working on overdrive, trying to piece together what Perkins was going to say before it was out of his mouth. She rarely liked being behind the curve; in fact, he knew she wasn't used to it.

"Same thing that drew her in to Arizona," Andrew glanced toward Callie for a moment, taking in the tightening of muscles as he named her girlfriend again before looking back at Lexie. "You were competent in your field, your work at the Nash crime scene - the guy that was beaten with a softball bat… that work would help clear her as a suspect, but mostly, you were trusting and kind."

"I don't buy it. Cristina surrounded herself with good people because she knew they were good people?" Callie said, her sneer evident in the question.

He smiled firmly at her, "She does it so that she can emulate your traits and characteristics. She hasn't been able to have emotions like normal people since her childhood. A disturbed individual or possible sociopath, if we find enough to point in that direction, surrounds themselves with stable, well adjusted friends and co-workers. Someone to model. People to watch."

Bailey pursed her lips and let out a murmur of agreement, "We always hear from those friends and co-workers with the same words, 'I never would have thought they could have done it.'"

"They were always so quiet. Kept to themselves." Mark chimed in.

Lexie turned to Callie, "Maybe she didn't like you because she always thought you were the one that would be the hardest to fool. You were the person she trusted the least, and kept her eye on. Maybe that's why all of those break-ins happened in your car. She was trying to throw you off, or upset you enough to get you out of your element."

Callie's brow furrowed, "So all the attention that she was putting into the case was a compliment to my detective skills?" She shrugged before lifting her hands in the air in a mock cheer, "Yay, me!"

"Callie," the young ADA cleared his throat and corrected himself, "Detective, you were a threat to the finely tuned system she had placed together. You and Detective Sloan were getting too close to her pattern and she needed you out of the picture, figuratively speaking."

His mouth screwed up in a pucker for a moment in thought and George waved his hand, "Metaphorically?"

"Okay, so she's a sociopath," Lexie pushed ahead, still trying to wrap her head around the whole situation. "But that still doesn't explain why she would kill my father. You're telling me that she actually liked me? Or that she was just trying to be around me to figure out how to act 'normal'? Because, I was probably a poor choice."

Mark smiled and laughed silently to himself.

"Did you ever have a conversation with her, Grey?" Bailey asked. "What I mean to say is, did she know your father had troubles with alcohol in the past?"

Her eyes rolled up as she tried to dig into pieces of her memory. Callie watched as Lexie's face fell and she latched onto an image, or a word, possibly a moment. Her shoulder slumped and the soft auburn hair moved forward, nearly covering her face, "Yeah, when we were doing the shoe prints. I was just prattling on about my dad going to AA and being clean. You know, because of all the alcohol at the crime scene."

Tears started to pool in her eyes as she looked up at the figures around the table. She brushed a hand along her cheeks, flicking away the water, "Yang was asking about Dad, and I mean," a bitter laugh broke through the quiet room, "I thought I was just having a conversation, but she kept digging."

"She found something in your past that justified her actions in her mind," Andrew stated matter-of-factly.

Lexie broke down, unable to control the tears any longer. "It's my fault," she whispered. Immediately, Mark approached her and knelt at her side. He rubbed her back soothingly.

"This is not your fault, Lexie. None of this is your fault, do you hear me?"

xOxOxO

"It's not your fault."

The sentence hung between them and Arizona blinked her eyes slowly trying to center herself. "What did you say?"

Cristina stared back at Arizona and repeated herself, "It's not your fault. The gun shots. I understand why you did what you did. You had to protect those that you believed were going to be harmed." A soft smile snuck its way across her face as she added, "And I'm healing well. The doctors are very kind here," Yang paused, "Well, as kind as you would expect in a prison."

Arizona's hand clenched and a shock of pain ran up her arm, reminding her of the sacrifices she made in the ballroom. The friendly fire wasn't something she held against the young police officer. He was doing what he had to do.

She shook her head, causing a flyaway strand of blonde hair to fall in front of her face. Arizona sucked in a breath, brushed the lock back and cocked her head, "You did what you had to do."

It wasn't a question. Cristina could tell from Arizona's tone and smiled softly at her partner, but Yang could feel something shift on the other side of the plexiglass.

Arizona stood up from the chair, the legs creating a rough squeal as they edged along the concrete, "Do no harm, Yang. You do that first."

xOxOxO

The door clicked shut on the interview room and Callie struggled with her crutches, hearing them clang around under the table in an annoying game of hide and seek. Mark had already left with Lexie to get cleaned up for the ceremony tonight, which left her alone with George O'Malley and his attempt to gather case files.

They both were a mess, but Callie knew hers was from her injury, not nerves. "So, do you think we'll make it stick?"

"What?" A spurt of papers flew across the table at her and George tried to laugh it off, "Everything? Right now, no, but we have time to build a case that is solid."

He looked away, which always meant he was hiding something. She had done her fair share of ignoring that tactic, but she couldn't do the same now.

"But," she ground out flatly.

A hand smoothed down his tie as he leveled her with a sad gaze, "But the jury isn't going to convict on just good detective work and timelines. They live in a world of fake cases on television and film. They expect physical evidence and DNA and right now we don't have those things."

"It doesn't matter if we have those things or not, George. Yang was at every crime scene as a first responder. Even if we put her DNA there or other physical evidence of any kind, she has a legitimate reason for it to be there. We need to start trying harder or she's going to be walking the streets by this time next year." Callie yanked on a crutch and it finally pulled free of whatever it had been caught on. "The entire city has a stake in this."

"I know that, Callie," George said, and rubbed his hands in his hair. "But if we can't prove it, that's how the system works. If we can't prove it, then maybe she's innocent."

"You're an idealist, George. You were never cut out to work for the prosecution," Callie pushed herself roughly to her crutches and stared at him. "Don't fuck this up. I have a lot riding on this."

"Thanks. I'm not under enough pressure already." His face softened for a moment and he swallowed, "You look good."

Callie's face contorted as she pointedly looked down at her leg, and then back up at George, as a smile worked slowly across his face.

"Not that," he waved at her with a stack of folders, his smile causing crinkles along his eyes, "Detective. It looks good on you." George moved to the door, quickly opening it as Callie approached the exit.

She paused for a moment and smirked at him, "I know."

The clicking of the crutches echoed through the empty precinct. Callie flicked her wrist up trying to see the time, but was interrupted by Arizona's voice, "Don't bother, we're running late."

Arizona placed a hand on Callie's back and ushered her down the hall to the bank of elevators. George stood in silence in the hall, watching. Callie had never seemed more vulnerable to him and he was thankful that Arizona was there for her if he couldn't be.

A light above the elevator flashed, the doors opened, and the two women stepped inside.

xOxOxO

Hundreds of officers and civilians filled the auditorium. The two officers that died in the ballroom bombing, as the media had dubbed it, had already received the Police Cross, but the department felt the need to honor many of the people that were there that night. Callie could feel the sweat rolling down her temple as they stood behind the stage, listening to the crowd murmur in the distance.

"I don't know why this has to be such a big deal. They could just put an accommodation in my jacket folder. That would be good enough for me," she complained to Mark.

"Did you see that King 5 is out there?" he asked in a whisper.

"You're not helping, Mark."

He grinned widely at her and leaned in closer, "Do you think they'll interview us?"

A hand dug into his shoulder and pulled him back upright, painfully. Mark winced and let out an over exaggerated whine.

"Oh, please," Arizona chided him, "that could not have hurt." Her hand moved to her sling as she pulled at the velcro and then repositioned it, "Do you really think giving medals out on stage when there was a bomb on a stage when people were getting medals is a good idea? With cameras too."

"Plaques." Callie corrected.

Arizona leaned forward, looking across Mark's body, "What?"

"They were getting plaques."

"There was a complete security sweep," Callie said blandly.

"Plus the bad guy is in jail right now," Mark said with a shrug.

Arizona shot daggers at him with her eyes.

"What?" he asked, feigning hurt. "You were there, you saw it happen. You took a bullet. Any of this ringing a bell?"

Callie grabbed his arm and said softly, "Let it go, Sloan."

They could hear the crowd settling in and the Chief of Police introducing himself to guests and media. He then started explaining the events of the night of the bombing, how they stood on a stage much like this, for much the same purpose. Callie tuned him out, her mind wandering to the good portions of that evening: Arizona getting ready, how she looked in her dress, the curve of her back, her smile.

The flashbulbs from the cameras brought her mind snapping back into the present as the applause filtered back in through her auditory fog. They all filed onto the stage, Callie leading the pack on crutches to keep the pace slow enough.

She looked toward the Chief as he smiled tightly and pinned a medal to her jacket. He paused for a moment before turning toward the crowd and offered his right palm for a handshake. Callie grasped his hand, hoping he wouldn't feel how clammy her own was from the dread of being in front of a group. She was thankful this would be the extent of her duties, no speeches on stage, and the rest of the media handled by Captain Bailey or someone from PR.

The Chief patted their joined hands together and murmured another round of thank yous to her before moving onto Mark.

Callie maneuvered her crutches to the back of the stage and rested on them as the rest of the group received their own accommodations and joined her one by one. Sloan and Bailey received a Medal of Honor, as she had. Arizona got two awards, one for Meritorious Citizenship and the other for Life Saving. Several other officers were also pinned with Medals of Valor or Distinguished Service Awards.

Mark leaned toward Callie as the assortment of honored gathered for one last round of pictures. He whispered out of the side of his mouth, "So are you going to stick around after and talk shop or sneak off with Seattle's new girl scout?"

Callie glanced at Mark and raised an eyebrow in question as he grinned widely, speaking through his teeth, "Life Saving? It's like a merit badge."

"It's her job. We all just got medals for doing our jobs, Mark. Don't you think this whole thing is just a little ridiculous?" she asked, completely blowing off his casual humor.

"So, you're going right home then?" He asked, looking expectantly at her.

Callie looked forward again as another round of flashes scattered through the crowd. She changed the grip on the crutches and shifted her weight, "Right home."

xOxOxO

The door swung open to Callie's apartment and Arizona brushed the newspaper out of the entryway. She tossed the keys onto the nearby table and sighed, "I hope they spell my name right. I had so many Marine functions where they botched my first name."

The tell-tale click of the crutches behind her with slight grunts every time they connected could tell Arizona that Callie was exhausted and she wasn't sure if it was the modified workday or the ceremonies, perhaps both.

"What did they call you?"

Arizona's good arm tugged on the buttons holding her collar together, "Oh, it ranged from Ariel to Arista and one time it was Eowyn," she chuckled, "I think that last one was just a Tolkien fan."

Callie's nose wrinkled. "That's weird. It's not like they haven't heard Arizona before. It's got its own state and everything." She yawned and then fell onto the couch with a sigh.

Dropping the crutches to the floor, she leaned over into the cushions, while her feet stayed on the floor. "It's so good to be home."

Arizona circled to the other side of the couch and sat next to her, pulling Callie's feet into her lap with her good arm. "So good to be home," she repeated.

"Would you like it to be?" Callie asked quietly as Arizona unlaced her dress shoes and slipped them off.

Arizona paused for a moment as she took in the question and swallowed before pressing on, "Would I like what?"

Pushing herself up on an elbow, Callie reached out for Arizona's hand as she looked into her eyes, "Would you like it to be our home?"

Feeling the beginnings of tears pooling, Arizona batted her eyelids and chuckled, "Are you asking me to U-Haul with you?"

Callie's forehead wrinkled as she scoffed, "Of course not, that's way too expensive. I'm asking you to make Mark carry all your stuff over here in Derek's gnarly SUV."

"I would love to have all of our things in one place and not have to live out of an overnight bag," Arizona smiled.

"This is kind of a big moment," Callie said more seriously.

"I know," Arizona nodded.

"I love that I can have big moments with you and you're okay not making them into big moments." Callie pushed herself up to a sitting position and circled both of her hands around one of Arizona's. "That's not the only thing that I love, either."

"What else do you love?"

"You," Callie stated simply. "I love you."

Arizona smiled, "Well that's really convenient, because I happen to love you, too."

She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Callie's, "And we'll get through the next bits together, right?"

"You foresee hardships and danger?" Callie quipped. "You underestimate me, young grasshopper. We can make it through anything after this." She winked at Arizona and then added, "Assuming we heal properly. I feel like I've been on crutches for two years. I have armpit bruises."

Arizona sighed, feeling as if she was carrying around a burden, "Callie..." she trailed off for a moment and ran her thumb along the inside of Callie's wrist.

"Hey," Callie leaned down, catching Arizona's eye line, "it's never easy. Life, it's going to be bumpy, but I would rather those bumps be with you." Her lips pursed together, "You've seen the down sides."

A short laugh emitted from Arizona, "Yeah, when you wake up."

"Those six week shift changes are really hard to adjust to!" Callie said through laughter. She knew she could be a bear upon waking up.

Arizona smoothed Callie's hair. "You're sure?"

"I'd rather be furious with you than not have you at all."

"How comforting," Arizona's dimples flashed.

Callie smiled back at her, "Can we let it be, for tonight?"

The question sounded so innocent, like a child, and Arizona nodded slowly back at her, "Yeah, I think we can do that tonight."

Callie brushed her thumb across Arizona's cheek, and leaned in slowly. Their lips touched tenderly, and she took Arizona's lower lip into her mouth. She was warm and inviting, and pressed into Callie in response. In that moment, Callie's only thought was that nothing could possibly go wrong between them, no matter what lie ahead.


End file.
